LADY HESTER STANHOPE.
London Henry Colburn, 1845.

MEMOIRS
OF THE
LADY HESTER STANHOPE,

AS RELATED BY HERSELF
IN CONVERSATIONS WITH HER
PHYSICIAN;
COMPRISING
HER OPINIONS, AND ANECDOTES OF
SOME OF THE MOST REMARKABLE PERSONS
OF HER TIME.

All such writings and discourses as touch no man will mend no man.—Tyers’s Rhapsody on Pope.

Second Edition.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.

LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.

1846.

LONDON:
F. SHOBERL, JUN. 51, RUPERT STREET, HAYMARKET,
PRINTER TO H. R. H. PRINCE ALBERT.

PREFACE
TO THE
SECOND EDITION.

In publishing a second edition of the “Memoirs of Lady Hester Stanhope,” the Author does not feel himself called upon to reply to the many desultory criticisms on his work which have issued from the press. It was naturally to be expected that, among the numerous adherents of statesmen, noblemen, and princes, whose lives had been commented upon in these pages, there would be no lack of writers to vindicate their reputation, or, failing in this, to censure the narrator. But, to do so with vulgarity, as was the case in two or three reviews, is surely departing from the rules of literary courtesy, and must rather have weakened their arguments than otherwise.

We read in the number of the Quarterly Review for September last (p. 449) a paragraph, which the writer must have known was a misrepresentation of facts. It is there asserted that the Earl Stanhope had given a flat contradiction to a portion of Dr. M.’s Conversations. Now, the critic ought to have been aware that what his lordship denied was no part of the “Conversations,” but an extract from a letter written by Lady Hester herself to his Grace the Duke of Wellington; and yet, not acting with the fairness and impartiality which became him, and becomes every person sitting in judgment on another, he forgets to give at the same time the answer, and in this way hopes to cast odium on the Author of the Memoirs, at the expense of truth and justice. No apology therefore is needed for inserting the answer, thus, it is to be hoped, unintentionally omitted, and which was as follows:—

“The Author of the ‘Memoirs of Lady Hester Stanhope’ presents his compliments to the Editor of the Morning Post, and, in reference to that portion of a letter from the Earl Stanhope, which appeared in the Morning Post on the 10th inst., wherein his lordship complains of an assertion ‘that he went to dine in company with Mr. Fox when Mr. Pitt was on his death-bed,’ begs leave to inform him that it was not made by Lady Hester Stanhope in conversation with the Author (as might be inferred from his lordship’s words), but was contained in a letter written by her ladyship to the Duke of Wellington, and which was published in the newspapers of the day. Consequently, the Author of the Memoirs is in no wise responsible for the accuracy or inaccuracy of the statement.

“With regard to the concluding paragraph of his lordship’s letter, in which he says, ‘I may also express my concern that any physician should have considered it as consistent with his sense of propriety to publish the report of conversations between himself and one of his patients,’ the Author of the Memoirs takes the liberty of observing that the contents of his work are not confidential communications between a physician and his patient, but conversations upon domestic and public subjects, which had already been repeated to many other persons, and which, he was convinced, from her ladyship’s frequent recurrence to the same topics, she was but too anxious should be made known to the world. The Author, therefore, may be excused if he adds that he has been as desirous to observe the strict rules of propriety, and is as incapable of violating private confidence, as his lordship himself.”

In other respects, the Author of the Memoirs has no complaint to make. A reviewer promulgates his opinions, which clash with those of an author, and the public, if interested in the discussion, soon shows its leaning. When the reviewer has done honour to Lady Hester Stanhope’s noble qualities and her virtues, the Author can readily forgive what is said of himself, although, “peradventure,” not altogether said with fairness.

The Author.

United University Club,

November 5, 1845.

PREFACE.

There are some people in the world whose pride is so great or so little, that the remarks of any individual, respecting their condition, do not affect them one way or the other. Such a person was Lady Hester Stanhope; and I beg leave, at the outset of this work, to apprize the reader, in the most explicit terms, that I have published nothing, in what I am about to submit to his perusal, which she would not have desired to be now made known. As a professional man, who was for many years her physician, I may naturally be supposed to feel a deep interest about her; and, when I had seen her, in the first epoch of her peregrinations, dwelling in palaces, surrounded with all the luxuries common to her rank, and courted and admired by all who had access to her, I could not but be poignantly affected in beholding the privations to which she was latterly subjected. My object being to portray a character which is not duly appreciated by people in general, I could devise no better means than that of giving a diary of her conversations, wherein her observations on men and things fall naturally from her own mouth.

Whilst I acknowledge my own unfitness for such a work, my chief reason for undertaking it is the possession of numerous memoranda, resembling the unfashioned marble fresh from the quarry, rudely shaped, but, to the philosopher and moralist, bearing the marks of the soil from whence it was taken. Had I entrusted them to abler hands, to form into a more perfect composition, the materials might have been embellished, but it would have been at the expense of their originality.

Lady Hester Stanhope, noble by birth and haughty by nature, had carried out from England all the habits of her order: but a prolonged residence in the East amongst the Turks induced her to reflect on the different customs of those around her, and she adopted by degrees all such as she thought had good sense for their basis. Every year brought her nearer to the simplicity of nature, and taught her to throw down those barriers with which pride, reserve, and etiquette have hedged in persons of rank in this country—barriers, favourable to a complete separation between the rich and poor, between the high and low, but which have also excluded our aristocracy from the enjoyment of many of the pleasures of life, and have too often made them the slaves of their own greatness.

The following pages are faithful transcripts of Lady Hester Stanhope’s conversations. In the thousand and one nights that I have sat and listened to them, I have heard enough to compile an uninterrupted history of her life from her infancy to her death; but, of course, much has been necessarily suppressed, and much more forgotten: the reader, therefore, must content himself with a less continuous narrative, which, it is hoped, will not prove uninstructive, and is, at all events, strictly true. The phraseology of the speaker is religiously preserved, as will be readily acknowledged by those who have known her. In many instances it is but little conformable with the present style of English conversation: but any alterations made in it, to suit the fastidiousness of some tastes, would, by destroying the fidelity of the picture, shake the authenticity of what remains.

I have touched slightly on Lady Hester Stanhope’s religious opinions; and although I am quite sure that a traveller was seldom, if ever, allowed to depart from her presence without an insight into her sentiments on these points, even from the little I have said, it will be plain that not one has done her justice in speaking of them.

I sincerely trust that nothing will be found in the following pages which can with just cause wound the feelings of any living person: and it is to be borne in mind that chagrin and disappointment had soured Lady Hester’s temper, and put her out of humour with all mankind; so that her praise and blame must be received with all due reservation.

Before I conclude, I think it necessary to add a few lines respecting the last months of her existence. Lady Hester Stanhope died, as far as I have been able to learn, unattended by a single European, and in complete isolation. I was the last European physician or medical man that attended her, and I was most anxious and willing (foreseeing her approaching fate as I did) to continue to remain with her: but it was her determined resolve that I should leave her, and those who have known her can not deny that opposition to her will was altogether out of the question.

There is no doubt that, by prolonging my stay on Mount Lebanon, I might have been of considerable service to her ladyship. She was about to shut herself up alone, without money, without books, without a soul she could confide in; without a single European, male or female, about her; with winter coming on, beneath roofs certainly no longer waterproof, and that might fall in; with war at her doors, and without any means of defence except in her own undaunted courage; with no one but herself to carry on her correspondence; so that everything conspired to make it an imperative duty to remain with her: yet she would not allow me to do so, and insisted on my departure on an appointed day, declaring it to be her fixed determination to remain immured, as in a tomb, until reparation had been made her for the supposed insult she had received at the hands of the British government.

It would have been expected that the niece of Mr. Pitt, and the grand-daughter of the great Lord Chatham, might have laid claim to some indulgence from those whose influence could help or harm her; and that her peculiar situation in a foreign country, among a people unacquainted with European customs and habits (being left as she was to her own energies to meet the difficulties which encompassed her), might have exempted her from any annoyance, if it did not obtain for her any aid. A woman sixty years old, with impaired health, inhabiting a spot removed many miles from any town, amidst a population whom their own chiefs can hardly keep under control, was no fit object, one would think, for molestation under any circumstances; but, when the services of Lady Hester’s family are put into the scale, it seems wonderful how the representations of interested money-lenders could have had sufficient weight with those who guided the State to induce them to disturb her solitude and retirement. Will it be believed that, when in August, 1838, I took leave of her, the beam of the ceiling of the saloon, in which she ordinarily sat, was propped up by two unsightly spars of wood, for fear the ceiling should fall on her head; and that these deal pillars, very nearly in the rough state in which they had been brought from the North in some Swedish vessel, stood in the centre of the room? Her bed-room was still worse; for there the prop was a rough unplaned trunk of a poplar-tree, cut at the foot of the hill on which her own house stood.

It may be asked whether there were no carpenters or masons in that country? There certainly were both; but, where carriage is effected on the backs of camels and mules and there are no wheeled vehicles whatever, in a sudden emergency (such as the cracking of a beam), resort must be had to the most ready expedient for immediate safety; and, with her resources cramped by the threatened stoppage of her pension, her ladyship could not venture on new-roofing her rooms—a work of time and expense.

The perusal of the narrative which is here submitted to the reader will sufficiently account for Lady Hester’s debts, and the most cursory visit to her habitation at Jôon (or Djoun, as the French write it) would have proved to anybody that the money which she had borrowed was never expended on her own comforts:—a tradesman’s wife in London had ten times as many. Having no other servants but peasants, although trained by herself, she could scarcely be said to have been waited on; and a tolerable idea may be formed of their customary service, when an eyewitness can say that he has seen a maid ladling water out of a cistern with the warming-pan, and a black slave putting the teapot on the table, holding it by the spout, and the spout only.

But these were trifles, in comparison with the destruction and pilfering common to the negresses and peasant girls; and so little possibility was there of keeping any article of furniture or apparel for its destined purpose, that, after many years of ineffectual trouble, she, who was once, in her attire, the ornament of a court, might now be said to be worse clad than a still-room maid in her father’s house. Her ladyship slept on a mattress, on planks upheld by trestles, and the carpeting of her bed-room was of felt. She proclaimed herself, with much cheerfulness, a philosopher; and, so far as self-denial went, in regard to personal sumptuousness, her assertion was completely borne out in garb and furniture. How far she deserved that title, upon the higher grounds of speculative science and the extraordinary range of her understanding, let those say who have shared with the writer in the profound impression which her conversation always left on the minds of her hearers.

Peace be with her remains, and honour to her memory! A surer friend, a more frank and generous enemy, never trod the earth. “Show me where the poor and needy are,” she would say, “and let the rich shift for themselves!” As free from hypocrisy as the purest diamond from stain, she pursued her steady way, unaffected by the ridiculous reports that were spread about her by travellers, either malicious or misinformed, and not to be deterred from her noble, though somewhat Quixotic enterprises, by ridicule or abuse, by threats or opposition.

I take this opportunity of thanking the Chevalier Henry Guys, French Consul at Aleppo, for the communication he so liberally made me of the correspondence between Lady Hester Stanhope and himself, and from which I have selected such letters as bore on the subjects noticed in the diary. The reader will form the best estimate of that gentleman’s merits from a perusal of them.

The Author.

London, June 18, 1845.

CONTENTS
OF
THE FIRST VOLUME.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

MEMOIRS
OF
LADY HESTER STANHOPE.

CHAPTER I.

Introductory remarks—Correspondence.

When Lady Hester Stanhope commenced her travels, in 1810, I accompanied her in the capacity of physician, until, after many wanderings in the East, I saw her finally settled on Mount Lebanon; but, being obliged to return to England for the purpose of taking my medical degrees at Oxford and London, after having passed seven years uninterruptedly in her service, I took leave of her. My successor, an English surgeon, disliking an Oriental life, left her, however, at the end of a year or two, and, at Lady Hester’s request, I again revisited Syria. But I found that her ladyship had in the mean while completely familiarized herself with the usages of the East, conducting her establishment entirely in the Turkish manner, and adopting even much of their medical empiricism. Under these circumstances, and at her own suggestion, I again bade her adieu, as I then believed, for the last time.

It was my intention to have cultivated my professional pursuits in London; there were great difficulties to be overcome—difficulties which have been ably depicted in the graphic pages of a recent publication. I did not wait, however, to try the issue of this slow career. Years of travel had inspired me with other views; and it was with much secret satisfaction that I resolved to avail myself of an opportunity which Lady Hester’s wishes again presented me, of once more traversing the mountain solitudes of Syria. It is not altogether an idle tribute of respect and admiration for her character to say, that the prospect of resuming my former position afforded me real pleasure. Long habit had reconciled me to her eccentricities, and even to her violent and overbearing temper. I had a profound sense of her exalted nature, and I felt that her oddities and peculiarities weighed only with those who knew her merely by common report, and that they in no respect affected her intrinsic worth in the estimation of such as were intimately acquainted with the sterling qualities of her heart and understanding.

I had been honoured with letters from her, in which she gave me reason to understand that she should be gratified by my presence in Syria; and I promptly expressed my readiness, in reply, to resume my situation near her person. The long intervals, however, which elapsed in the transmission of letters, (sometimes as much as four months) added to the uncertainty of what I should do, and the absolute necessity of doing something, induced me, while the correspondence was pending, to enter into a professional engagement with a gentleman of rank. When her anxiety to receive me, therefore, was definitively conveyed to me, I was placed in the painful dilemma of being obliged to apologize to her for not being able at that time to join her. This apology naturally generated a feeling of distrust in a mind so sensitive and impulsive—a feeling abundantly exhibited, in her own peculiar way, in the following extracts from letters received from her at this period. Some of these letters were written by herself, and some by her protégée Miss Williams,[1] at her dictation.

Extract of a letter from Lady Hester Stanhope to Dr. ——.

July 30, 1823.

I shall not either scold or reproach you; I only hope that the line you have taken will turn out in the end to your advantage. I confess I am sorry and mortified that, after having rendered me several services, you are still in a situation so little independent. Were I inclined to be angry, it would be with ——; for, had he been like the chevaliers of former times, he would have said, “Doctor, however it may be inconvenient for me to part with you at present, I so much respect your motives, and so much admire your fidelity, that, so far from opposing, allow me to promote your views; and I beg you will accept of this purse for your little wants. When you have finished with it, I trust you will consider me as your next friend; and I flatter myself I may expect from you the same proofs of attachment.”

But the world is spoilt; no good feeling exists; all is egotism. Had ——’s mind been as elegant as his horses, carriages, and servants were, when I saw them, years ago, he would not have acted thus, and taken advantage of a man’s circumstances, to have made him act against his inclination.[2]

I have no right to demand permanent sacrifices of you or others. The time will come when you will see with deep regret whether or not I had taken into consideration your interests as well as my own present convenience. I was surprised at your offer, so often repeated, and less surprised at your conduct; as a doubt often had occurred in my own mind, if temptations of any kind happened to be thrown in your way, whether or not you would have strength of mind to refuse present advantage and comfort. You have acted as you judged best, and as you thought circumstances authorized you to do; but you never can persuade me that General Grenville, the soul of honour and feeling, could ever have recommended a man to break his word. Had you simply asked him, before you had made up your mind, “Shall I keep my word and go, or accept of those offers? Give me, I do entreat, your candid opinion:”—I know what it would have been. But, having decided, what would you have him say? that I should be angry? No: he knew me too well not to be aware that no sacrifice, which I did not believe to be a voluntary one, could have any value in my estimation.

I cannot explain my feelings without seeming to praise myself. I make one rule for my own line of conduct, and one for that of others, and have two separate judgments; I mean, one regulated by truth and feeling, and one after the fashion of what is thought right in the world. I never judge myself and those I really love by the latter. I wish them to be pure and highminded, and to have confidence in God’s mercy, if they act from true principle. But you worldly slaves of bon ton must not be tried by such a test. Mr. Murray[3] was right—“She will not be angry,”—no, because she thinks you all children: I mean the gay world, of which you now make a part.

I need not have said all this, but it is a hint as to the future, when the folly and uselessness of modern ideas and calculations will be at an end. I have been thought mad—ridiculed and abused; but it is out of the power of man to change my way of thinking upon any subject. Without a true faith, there can be no true system of action. All the learned of the East pronounce me to be a Ulemah min Allah,[4] as I can neither write nor read; but my reasoning is profound according to the laws of Nature.

I shall say nothing of this part of the world, where I had latterly announced your speedy arrival to some of my particular friends and to my family.[5] Your interest about matters here must now be at an end; and it fatigues me so to write, that, without it is a case of absolute necessity, I must give it up. I have no assistance. My two dragomans are low-minded, curious, vulgar men, in whom I can put no confidence. In short, they can only be called very bad, idle servants, having no one property of a gentleman belonging to them.

James’s loss,[6] the general’s death—all has afflicted me beyond description. I heard of James’s affliction six months after. To write, not to write—no proper conveyance—what to say—after a year, perhaps, to open the wounds of his heart without being able to pour in one drop of the balm of consolation! What I say would be vain. He considers me as a sort of poor mad woman, who has once loved him; therefore, he is kind to me: but as to my opinions having weight—no! To be considered as a sort of object is not flattering; but so let it be. There is no remedy for it, or other evils, except in the hand of God, which, if he will stretch forth to save me, all may vanish; if not, I shall vanish; for I am quite worn out.

You will probably never receive the letter I alluded to, enclosed to a person. They must have heard of your conduct, and therefore think it unnecessary to see you, or give you the letter. Why did you inquire about this? What a simpleton you are! But there it all ends: there will be no more jumbles to make. Perhaps you may not hear from me, or of me, for years.

Remember, I shall give no opinion about you to any one; therefore, do not fancy, if you see a change in people’s conduct, it comes from me. The world and fashionable loungers take up new favourites every day, and discard the old ones without reason. All are not General Grenvilles. No one so likely to be mortified at this as you.

Why do you not talk to me of James’s poor little children, and why not have asked to see them? Have you forgotten how all about him interests me? I fear folly and fashion have got hold of you....

H. L. Stanhope.

In the year 1826, my professional engagements with the honourable individual before alluded to having ceased, I made the necessary preparations for my departure from England. Lady Hester Stanhope’s situation, feelings, and intentions at this precise time, will be best understood from three long letters which she wrote on three successive days of January, 1827, the very month in which I set out, but which I did not receive until the July following, at Pisa. To make the contents of these letters intelligible, it is necessary to premise that a traveller, whom we will designate as Mr. X., had, during a visit to her ladyship, at her residence, insinuated himself into her confidence so far as to make her believe that he was sent by the Duke of Sussex and the Duke of Bedford, and a committee of other influential Freemasons, to inquire into her wants, and to offer her such sums of money out of their funds as would extricate her from her pecuniary difficulties. How she could believe in such a gross tissue of falsehoods it is difficult to imagine, unless we are to suppose that Mr. X. was himself the dupe of others, who, for some sinister purpose, had furnished him with papers and documents so apparently authentic as to impose even upon Lady Hester Stanhope’s wonted sagacity.[7]

Lady Hester Stanhope to Dr. ——.

Djoun, January 5, 1827.

My dear Doctor,

I will not afflict you by drawing a picture of my situation, or of the wretched scarecrow grief and sickness have reduced me to; but I must tell you that I am nearly blind, and this is probably the last letter I shall be able to write to you: indeed, no other will be necessary.

I have received your letters of September the 17th and October the 18th of last year. What tricks played upon me, who have sacrificed everything to what I thought right! X., upon his arrival here, gave out to everybody, a month before I saw him, that he was the bearer of important letters from persons of the first consequence, and that he was sent to see into and settle my affairs. When he presented himself to me, he said that B. wrote to him to go to Syria, and Aug. sent him, and that his expenses were defrayed by the Sharky, and that everything would be as I could wish, and more than I could wish; at least, as far as I had expressed. As for his having become guarantee for my debts, or having advanced me £1400, with the promise shortly of £5000 more, it is all pure invention. He did say that he had written to order a box of jewels, worth 20, or 25,000 piasters, to be sent to a merchant here, to be sold on my account: and he said also he should send a letter of credit from Constantinople for 100 purses, for me to go on with until an express could arrive from England. The money he was to draw from his mercantile house; and he told me I need not be uneasy about it, as he should be paid instantly upon his arrival in England. He talked about its being his duty, &c. I certainly believed all this, but have never seen a farthing. What he said to your friend, Mr. Vondiziano, of Cyprus, I know not; but Mr. V. offered to send me 2000 dollars, which I accepted, and gave a note for six months, as desired, and the time of payment is now nine months past. X. moreover assured me, that in England nothing had been well understood, excepting only that all was wonder and approbation. He said that he should return here with all that I wanted, and should bring with him bricklayers, carpenters, &c., to enlarge my house and premises, as many great people would be coming who were anxious to see me: so that not a ship appears in sight but poor and rich fly to the seaside, shout and bare their heads, praying that it may be my ship; for all know my distress, and that I shall live upon charity. According to the ideas of the East, they expect to see a great box of money, left me by my brother, and the contents of his store-room, and all his pots and pans. It would not, therefore, be prudent for X. to return here. He would fare ill, and I should not know what to say. Should he arrive, I shall not see him; for he must be either a spy, a swindler, or a scapegoat for lies; and none of these characters do I wish to have anything to do with.

Poor Williams knows nothing of all this, except that I am in debt, and in expectation of money which is to come; for X. told everybody so: but she is at times uneasy about the future, and so on. All is right with her: she is strictly honest, but ignorant, having been a spoiled child, doing only what she thought proper, and never having learned household affairs. Yet, had she not been here, everything would have been much worse; as all, you know, are thieves, or wasteful, destroying beasts, unthankful, improvident, and whom it is impossible to teach any thing, or to make listen to reason or common sense.

Write to B., or call upon him until you see him. Do not give it up; but, until you have seen him, say not a word of my letters to any one. Let B. take notes, and speak to Aug.—not you. Let prudence and silence be the order of the day with you, and even with the Sharky of all nations you sometimes dine with. B. is a pure one, by birthright. I believe X. has acted by command, like others; therefore, in my heart, I am not angry with him; yet I will not see him.

Now, here are my orders and ultimatum. We will suppose two cases. If X.’s story is true, and my debts, amounting to £10,000, or nearly, are to be paid, then I shall go on making sublime and philosophical discoveries, and employing myself in deep, abstract studies; although, as my strength is gone, I cannot work day and night, as I have done. In that case, I shall want a mason, a carpenter, a ploughman, a gardener, groom, cowman, doctor, &c.; so that I must have assistance: income made out, £4000 a year, and £1000 more, for persons like you, that I should want, and £5000 ready money, for provisions, building, animals, money in hand, &c., that I may start clear. In the second case, in the event that all that has been told me is a lie, then let me be disowned publicly, now and hereafter, and left to my fate and faith alone: for, if I have not a right to what I want, which is in the hands of Messrs. Sharky and Co., I will have nothing. Nothing else will I hear of; and grief has departed from my soul since I have taken the following resolution.

I shall give up everything for life, that I may now or hereafter possess in Europe, to my creditors, and throw myself as a beggar upon Asiatic humanity, and wander far without one para in my pocket, with the mare from the stable of Solomon in one hand, and a sheaf of the corn of Beni-Israel in the other. I shall meet death, or that which I believe to be written, which no mortal hand can efface. There is nothing else to be done. I shall wait for no dawdling letters, or fabrication of lies, of which, for these five years, I have had enough. The will of God be done! I shall cheerfully follow my fate, and defy them all. For what are they without me? In the long run, they will see. But I have too lofty a soul not to observe the strictest line of honour towards even my enemies.

Dear little Adams! I have never written to that joher;[8] but all the past is written in my heart. I only waited till the cloud of my misery had dispersed, to let him know I was not ungrateful. Should it please God to deliver me out of the hands of my cruel brethren, as Joseph was delivered, then he will know—and you will know—what are my feelings of gratitude. Forgive me, forgive me, if I have injured you involuntarily! Oh! my God! perhaps, I have been the cause of your ruin. I have wept and wept; but tears will not feed the little children. Alas! my only trust is in Heaven.

You meant to do well, so I will not scold: but why apply without leave to the Fat or the Thin, or why talk to —— of my concerns? What is —— to me? I never could endure him. I know him well—a low-minded, chitter-chattering fellow: but suppose him an angel, had you my leave to consult or speak to him?—it is not likely. But, in the event of the Fat or the Thin’s having placed any money in the hands of my bankers, let them take it back again.... You have no explanations to make, only that I decline it. Under no circumstances, I repeat, will I owe any obligation to the Fat, to the Thin, to Canning, or his friends, or have anything to do with Sir Vanity. I say this, as I have heard of new plans of his. He may perhaps mean to come here;—if to-morrow, I shall shut my door in his face. If any force, consular force, is ever tried with me, I shall use force in return, and appeal to the populace to defend me. It is right this should be known. I am no slave, and I disown all such authority. Never will I be brought to England but in chains, and never will I be made to act differently from that which my will dictates, whilst there is breath in my body: therefore, to attempt to oppose me is vain. I am up to all their tricks, and it is time there should be an end of them.

If —— calls, say you have had a letter, in which I express my great astonishment that you should have spoken to him of my affairs, as they do not concern him in any way, and that I insist upon it that you should be perfectly silent in future; so he must not take it ill. Tell him that, strange to say, I decline all assistance from my family—persons, whom I have had no communication with for years, or ever shall have; and if he asks what I am to do, say you don’t know—that she knows best. I fear by and by that everything will be in the newspapers. These sort of men talk before servants to show their importance; all goes to grooms, footmen, and coachmen. I have traced all that before. One would think you were mad to forget all I have said to you on those subjects.

Grieve not about me—I am without fear and without reproach. My mind is a Paradise, since I have cast all that botheration from me: it is full of sublime ideas and knowledge. Write no more. I want nothing, and shall be off as soon as the fine weather comes, unless it should please God to eftah bab el khyr, [to open the door to good fortune]; otherwise, I shall burn all, and send Williams to Malta, with a note to be paid the first when Lady Bankes dies; for I have never paid her expenses here to Mr. David. Adieu, God bless you!

PS.—There is another letter at your friend’s in the city, which goes by this conveyance, and a note in it for ——. Puff! upon the £800. I spit upon it, and as many thousands from the same quarter. Are you mad? No, but I, in misfortune as in prosperity, am unlike the rest of the world; and I shall give sufficient proof that I defy it altogether.

Lady Hester Stanhope to Dr. ——.

Djoun, January 6, 1827.

I have received your letters of the 17th September and 18th of October of last year safe. You will inquire for a letter of mine directed to Coutts’s, but not in my hand; and do not say it came from me. Say nothing to any one of having received this, until you have well conned over the other: then go to B., insist upon seeing him, saying it is of the utmost importance. The note, which I told you in my letter of yesterday would be enclosed in this, I have burnt, for fear of accidents. Notwithstanding, in the event of my being mistaken, in order that all may be clear to you, I have sent you enclosed more notes. In the letter of the 5th you will find my ultimate resolves. I hope and trust not in them.

I have read over your letters again. Never did I tell X. to ask for a place, or recommend him, more than saying he had acted generously and kindly by me, which I then believed.

As for my debts, it is not, as you think, 25 per cent. yearly that I have to pay, but 50 and 95, and, in one instance, I have suffered more loss still. Gold of 28½ piasters they counted to me here at 45, which I spent at 28½, and am to repay at Beyrout at the rate of 45—calculate that. I was compelled to borrow; for I can’t eat silk, and that is all that is to be found here. Had those, who ought, then given a clear answer, things would not have been thus: but so it is written; I was to be a beggar. Be it so! All situations have their blessings, with the grace of God; it is uncertainty which is torture: but now my mind is made up. I have saved a mid[9] of the corn of the Beni-Israel, having no more land to sow. When in ear, ripe or not ripe, I shall cut it and be off, and give up my present and future income to my creditors for my life. Perhaps they may gain two hundred per cent.

Should the other letter be lost, burn this; hold your tongue, and say you have not heard from me; for this is of no use without the other, which contains full explanations, and for which reason you may be commanded to say that you have not heard from me. The loss will change nothing. I shall follow my fate, and be far off, I hope, before new lies arrive.

Not that I credit any change,—but, in case of a happy turn of events, I have said all this to provide for all cases, that you may not be embarrassed how to act. But I have little or no hope. I am no dupe to the tricks played me; who could be, who had one grain of common sense? A child of seven years old, well brought up, must at once see how unlikely—how impossible—it was that I should have applied for money to those who, from the hour I have first known them, have been themselves involved, or to that one[10] whom admiration and respect give me confidence in, and not intimacy. How could any human being credit that, with my independent character, I could stoop to receive one farthing from relations who have behaved to me like mine ..., and who, for years and years, have been upon the footing of strangers?

What an affliction to me is the sad news you wrote! Poor dear angel! what a heart! May he inhabit the seventh heaven![11]

I have been very ill of a terrible fever and strong convulsions. I tell you this that the period may not be mistaken, and my pension stopped. My eyes are quite dim, and drawn into my head with contraction, which sometimes pulls my head back—quite back. I can hardly crawl; but yet, poor monster as I am, I shall get on: for my spirit and heart are unchanged.

Now for servants. In the event of things having taken a favourable turn, and of their giving you the money necessary, I shall want no women until I have seen you first, and heard about them, for they might not answer. Men I should want as you will find described below, but no man-servant for the house—they are quite useless; never can one give a pipe, or present himself, and always out of temper with his room, food, &c. All those who come may go back in the Turkish year 45. Do not forget to make that remark to B., but to no one else.[12]

MEN-SERVANTS.

The great object would be a storekeeper to lock up, weigh, measure, and write down everything that comes in or goes out. Strict honesty, activity, and good character, are most necessary. Perhaps one of the sons of my old wet-nurse, Mrs. T., might answer better than anybody else, as I should feel sure of their attachment and principles. Mr. Murray knows and likes her, and might make that inquiry; and, indeed, there may be a girl in the family that might suit me, or a grandchild of the eldest daughter—the more like the mother, my nurse, the better; for she was a most charming and valuable creature, the happiest temper under the sun. It would not be a vulgar place for the son, because he would have a strong fellah [peasant] under him, to lift, and carry, and expose the stores to the air: he should write a good hand, and be able to keep accounts: his place would be like that of a purser in a ship. In one of the great revolutions, about five years ago, when I was eaten up by those who fled to me for succour, there went, in less than a year, thirty-six garáras of wheat,[13] fifty of barley, and four and a half cwt. of butter, with everything else in proportion.

The second man must be an old dragoon to overlook sayses [grooms]: one out of Lord Cathcart’s regiments would be best, because they are all polite. My lord is of the old school, and his men have a fine, imposing appearance. He must be spirited, though cool; for hasty people will not do with these beasts. General Taylor, if you asked him, would understand best what I mean.

Next, I must have a Scotch gardener, a quiet, steady, and retired character, yet active and intelligent, understanding the culture of flowers and garden-stuff in a common way, and capable of being a sort of bailiff, to choose land, prune trees, plough, sow, and lay out grounds. He should bring with him all sorts of proper utensils—a plough, a harrow, &c.; seeds, roots—and be ingenious enough to make a little model for this, and a little model for that. These three will be sufficient; for all waiting-servants and house-servants are useless.

I want a maid-servant for myself; not a fine lady, but one who has been a nursery or housemaid; one by nature above her situation, about eighteen, twenty, or twenty-two years of age, proper or not proper all the same, with a most excellent character. Don’t employ fifty persons about it. The Scotch lady, who was so good to Lucy, perhaps would know such a one—I mean one who has natural sense, feeling, a good heart and person, but no boarding-school miss—for education of all things is most odious.

Then I must have one for housekeeper, knowing about a dairy, all sorts of bread, pastry, and preserves, and not mild, but faithful.

Now, you have heard me a thousand times say what are good and what are bad marks; but, as you have a horrid memory, I will add a few observations.

Wrinkles at the eyes are abominable, and about the mouth. Eyebrows making one circle, if meeting, or close and straight, are equally bad. Those are good meeting the line of the nose, as if a double bridge. Eyes long, and wide between the eyebrows; and no wrinkles in the forehead when they laugh, or about the mouth, are signs of bad luck and duplicity. Eyes all zigzag are full of lies. A low, flat forehead is bad; so are uneven eyes, one larger than the other, or in constant motion. I must have a fine, open face, all nature, with little education, in a fine, straight, strong, healthy person, with a sweet temper.

Did you ever see a picture or painting of the Lady William Russell, the duke’s brother’s wife? that sort of face was perfect for a woman. If the eyebrows of a man are straight, and come nearly together, that is nothing; but, if they form an arch, it is always a sign of natural hum [melancholy or gloominess] in character. Never can such a one be contented or happy. Look at little Adams and General Taylor—how sincere are their black eyebrows!

Don’t make a mistake—wrinkles of age are not the wrinkles of youth, of which I am speaking. One line is not called a wrinkle. The wrinkles I speak of are found in children of seven years old when they laugh or cry.

The foot should be hollow and not flat. Club-feet stand good with all men and women. Legs that kick up dust when they walk, or a heavy walk, are bad. Stumpy hands are not good. Very white skin is not good; the yellow-white is better, and the veins should appear in the arms and wrists. An offensive, snapping voice, and awkward, snatching fingers, are bad; as is affectation of all sorts—bad teeth, unclean tongue and mouth, and bad smells about the person. Shun dry, crabbed dispositions, masked with smiles and gentleness; as also the officious and fidgety, the curious and intriguing, the discontented, and those with no feeling, or feeling false taught.

[Not signed.]

To this letter is appended a page of Arabic, written in English characters, which Lady Hester considered would be intelligible to me, accustomed as I was to her manner of speaking that language: but it is questionable whether any other person, however well acquainted with Arabic, would be able to make out her meaning. I shall beg leave, therefore, to omit the whole passage.

Lady Hester Stanhope to Dr. ——.

Djoun, Jan. 7, 1827.

Besides this, there is a letter addressed to Grosvenor Square, and one to the Strand. Do not own any of the three from me until you have read them all over, and made notes of what concerns me and my affairs. Communicate everything, as I desire you, to B., to Aug., and not to any one else at present, unless ordered by him.

Say not a word to X. until all is settled, one way or another. Then, before B., ask him these questions: Did not you say you had been the travelling-companion to B.’s son W., and had been like a child of the family?—Did not you show a present from Aug., saying, in case of accidents, that was a passport partout, and that money would be given you, if required, when that was seen?—Did not you show a paper, in a red box, as your grand credentials from the house of Sharka and Co.?—Did not you give a good reason for not being the bearer of private letters from Aug., B., and others?—Did not you say that all were mere dunces in comparison with Kokub? But all is trick. The poor devil, I believe, was given carte blanche to lie, provided he could spy—perhaps from another quarter?

Oh! odious ——! For God’s sake, keep clear of him! What has such a fellow to do with me, or my concerns? He has ever been a meddler and mischief-maker, and for these twenty years I have had no communication with him. By what law of God or man, are you bound to answer people’s questions?—the lowest and most vulgar of proceedings. I have told you so for years and years. What had he to do with the coming or going of X.? and what sort of a fellow is X., to have thus made public my affairs?

Of the assistance of the Fat or Thin I will not hear. The last I have had no communication with for twenty years and more, and the other I cannot respect. Heber has grieved me, for I once thought better of him. He has, at times, made offers of service in a vague way, just to say he had made them; but, if sincere, he would have written—“You have lost a friend; perhaps your presence may be required in England, to put your affairs to rights; therefore, I have placed so-and-so at Coutts’s, ready for your journey, which, if not necessary, let me have the consolation of thinking, may add to your little comforts.” I should not have accepted anything, but yet should have thought it necessary to have thanked him, which I have not done for nonsensical speeches. I feel that I have no friend left in Europe; all are gone. Yet Allah mojôod [God is with me], and that is enough.

Speaking to little A. was proper; but, to all others, oh, what folly! You are no chitter-chatterer by nature, but your vanity makes you so. Why did I never speak to you of sublime things?—because I feared your prudence. You used sometimes to say—I have been asked so and so, sometimes so extraordinary. Poh! poh! stuff! are you a fool? do hold your tongue. Those hums and hahs were only distant hints: had you heard more, you would have gone mad. Not so me: I am all composure; haughty before men, but humble in spirit, like the Nebby Daôod [the prophet David], before the wise dispenser of hum and khyr [of sorrow and joy].

Do you think that misery will make me crouch, or beg of those who have no heart? If I beg, it will be of the followers of Omar and Ali, whose creed is generosity; and the good amongst them never even wound an unfortunate being, by making him retail his misfortunes.

Since my mind has been made up, I am not low, but feeble, and almost blind with a sort of violent muscular contraction, which has drawn my eyes into my head, and sometimes has distorted all my body: but my body is nothing; the heart is as full of fire as ever. I cannot read what I have written. I was two days making out your last letters. I had prepared a little court, with two rooms and an open divan, for you; but, with Mrs. —— and the children, it will not do. I shall love her and the dear children much, and all might be comfortable. God grant it so! I have a house in the village, which is good, and will do very well—clean, with two rooms up-stairs. If things were to turn out well, I should quickly build apartments close to the house, which would be near and convenient. But what do I say? All my plans are overturned; and, although in spirits at the idea of shortly getting away from all I have to go through, I am miserable that that cheat X. did not perfectly explain about your letter enclosed in Aug.’s. What will you do?

Well, now I have said enough, and must make up my mind to have, in a few days, an attack, from overstraining my head and eyes: but it is the last effort of the nature I shall make. Adieu.

[Not signed.]

PS. A dun, who came here two months ago—a Christian—took a Turk into his room, after I had seen and spoken to him, and said—“I came to get my money, but now I am ready to cry at her situation. It is clear that those Franks are unprincipled and unfeeling, that they have no religion, and know not God. The proof is—and does there want a stronger?—their leaving such a wonderful person as she really is to wither with sorrow.” Then he went out swearing, and took his leave. These are the feelings now alive among the Turkish population. As a contrast, mark how Mr. ——, an Englishman, acts. He told one of my creditors to take my bond, put it in water, and, when well sopped, to drink the mixture; “for that is all,” said he, “you will ever get for it.” Furious was the creditor, and took himself off to a distance, but will in a few months be back again to torment me.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Miss Williams was a young Englishwoman, who had been brought up in Mr. Pitt’s family, and who had all along resided with Lady Hester Stanhope, as her humble companion. It is necessary to observe that it was a common custom with Lady Hester, when she had any particular object in view, to write one version of the subject with her own hand, and to dictate another, which was to be considered as the expression of the opinions of the writer, but which to me, long habituated to the secrets of her cabinet, was easily recognized as emanating from one and the same source.

[2] In justice to the honourable individual here alluded to, it is necessary to state that he was wholly ignorant of the correspondence going on between Lady Hester Stanhope and myself.

[3] The late Mr. Alexander Murray, solicitor, of Symond’s Inn.

[4] A heaven-born sage.

[5] Lady Hester does not here mean her relations in England. She had another family, adopted by her, in Arabia—the tribe of Arabs called the Koreysh. And, as many individuals, both among the green-turbaned Mussulmans, or Sheryfs, as they are called, the recognized descendants of Mahomet, and among the gentry of Syria who claim alliance with the noble tribes of the desert, were in the habit of frequent intercourse with her, it is to these she probably had announced my expected coming. She had a notion, founded on a very doubtful etymology, that the first Lord Chatham was descended from an Arabian stock, there being a tribe somewhat similar in name still existing among the Bedouins. How she could forget that Pitt was the family name, and Chatham a title of dignity, superimposed, is not clear. But from this tribe of Arabs sprung Melek Seyf, a great conqueror; and, reasoning in this way, Melek Seyf was her ancestor, as tribes, like clans, are all one blood. This story, repeated over and over again, became current among the servants and in the villages; and the maids were accustomed to say, “Yes, my lady, they may be princes or emperors who come to see you, but your descent is higher than theirs—your ancestors were Melek Seyf, and the seven kings.”

[6] The Hon. J. Stanhope’s loss of his wife, Lady Frederica Murray, daughter of the Earl of Mansfield.

[7] N.B. In the following letters, Aug. means H.R.H. the Duke of Sussex; B., His Grace the Duke of Bedford; Sharky (the Arabic for a firm, or partners), a committee of Freemasons; A., Mr. Adams, Mr. Pitt’s secretary; the Fat, His Grace the Duke of B*********; the Thin, the Earl S*******; Sir Vanity, Sir S***** S****; Kokub, Lady H. S.; H., Mr. Heber.

[8] The Arabic for jewel.

[9] A measure of the country, containing about a gallon.

[10] By that one H.R.H. the late Duke of York is meant.

[11] Here the Duke of York is again alluded to, who was at this time sinking into the grave.

[12] It would appear from this, that Lady Hester Stanhope expected the accomplishment of some great event in that year of the Hegira, viz., 1245.

[13] A garára is seventy-two mids, or gallons.

CHAPTER II.

The Author’s departure from England to join Lady Stanhope—Voyage from Leghorn to Syria—The vessel plundered by a Greek pirate—Return to Leghorn—Signor Girolamo—Letter from Lady Stanhope to Mr. Webb, merchant at Leghorn—Lady Stanhope persecuted by the Emir Beshýr—Letter from Lady Stanhope to the Author, describing her position in 1827—Her reliance on Providence—Second Letter to Mr. Webb—Her opinion of the Turks and Christians in Syria, and of the wild Arabs—Terror of the Franks in Syria, on occasion of the battle of Navarino—They take refuge in Lady Stanhope’s house—The Franks in Syria—Her letter to the Author, urging him to rejoin her—Her advice—Her ladyship’s illness—The Author sails for Syria.

On the 23rd of January, 1827, I crossed over to Calais with my family. Here the severity of the weather and the sale of some landed property in England detained us until the 9th of May, when we prosecuted our journey to Paris, Lausanne, and Pisa, where we arrived on the 14th of June, with the intention of embarking from Leghorn by the first vessel that sailed for the Levant. It must be borne in mind by the reader that there were no steamboats in those days, and that, moreover, the navigation of the Mediterranean sea was rendered dangerous by the predatory warfare carried on by the Greeks.

At Leghorn I received another letter from Lady Hester Stanhope, wherein, as if in despair about her affairs, and knowing, from a letter of mine, that I was leaving England to join her, she winds up the X. intrigue in a summary way, and gives me instructions how I am to conduct myself on my arrival in Syria.

Lady Hester Stanhope to Dr. ——.

Djoun, May 29, 1827.

Dear Doctor,

You will hear from Mr. Webb the situation I am in. I sent three letters to you, by way of France, at the beginning of the year. To cut the matter short, it is better to say you never received them. If any one asks after X., say you don’t know him, or otherwise you will be so teazed with questions. Mind these instructions. Say to everybody, when you land, that you know nothing of my affairs, not having seen any of my family since my brother’s death;[14] that, hearing I had a complaint in my eyes, you set off, without consulting any one, and that it was your intention to remain some time with me, as you had brought Mrs. —— and the children.

Land, if possible, at Sayda, and, on reaching the harbour, leave your family in the ship, take an ass at my farrier’s, and come here to Djoun. This is all, I believe, that is necessary for me to say, should you not have received my letters, written at the beginning of the year. If you have received them, and things do well, the case is rather altered.

I cannot express my gratitude. May God reward you hereafter!

I hope Mrs. ——- has plenty of rings on her fingers, as that is very necessary in this country, and the greatest of possible ornaments in the eyes of women.

[Not signed.]

No eligible opportunity offered for sailing until the end of August, when, having concluded an agreement with the owners of a merchant brig, we betook ourselves to Leghorn, and set sail in the Fortuna, Lupi master, for Cyprus, on the 7th of September, 1827. There were four Franciscan friars passengers besides ourselves, bound to the Holy Land, with money annually sent from some of the Italian states for the maintenance of the sacred places.

On the 15th of September, being about thirty leagues from the island of Candia, a tall-masted schooner was seen bearing down upon us, and was soon recognized as a Greek. On nearing us, she hoisted Greek colours, and ran under our stern, presenting a formidable battery of twelve guns, with the heads of sixty or eighty fierce-featured fellows eyeing us over the gunwale. A scaramouch-looking mate hailed us in good Italian, and ordered our captain to hoist out his boat and come on board. Whilst the boat was getting ready, our captain told us to do the best we could for ourselves, for that he had no doubt we should be plundered. “As for you,” he added, addressing himself to me, “make yourself as smart as you can, assume an air of authority, and pass yourself off as a consul.” We were all greatly alarmed. I hastened to follow the captain’s advice, whilst the friars were busy in stuffing their gold, their watches, and their small valuables, into their under-garments and other hiding-places.

The Greeks, however, gave us little time; for, in a quarter of an hour, fifteen or twenty were on board, headed by their lieutenant. On getting over the side, he advanced towards me, and, in a very civil way, told me that, as Cyprus was blockaded, and as our vessel was bound to that place, no doubt with succours to the Turks in some shape or other, his captain found himself under the disagreeable necessity of taking possession of the cargo. “You,” he added, “being an Englishman, will meet with no molestation; the English are our friends, and we are not incapable of gratitude.”

In an instant the hatches were forced open; and, as quick as stout shoulders and tackles could do it, the Greeks hoisted upon deck, and cut or broke open every bale, cask, or case that was in the hold, whilst the lieutenant, holding the bill of lading in his hand, noted off every one according to its mark. I had various articles of luggage, and as each was hoisted up, I had to say it was mine, when it was put aside on the quarter-deck. The same was done with the effects of the friars. Each launch-load of goods that was sent off to the schooner brought back a launch-load of stout Greeks, who, with hammers and hatchets, broke down the wainscoting, cut through the ceiling, searched the berths, and left not a single cranny of the vessel unransacked.

When the cargo was out, the lieutenant summoned the four, as I supposed, poor friars to the quarter-deck, and told them their trunks must next undergo an examination. Each trunk had a cross on its lid. What was my surprise when, on opening them, the Greeks found fifty or sixty pounds of chocolate, bottles of rum and rosolio, hams, tongues, Bologna sausages, sugar, and a large box of sugared almonds; also seven or eight veils, (such as are worn in the Levant) for women, fine flannel waistcoats and drawers, good calico shirts, &c.; 200 Venetian ducats, three or four rouleaus of doubloons, and 5,000 Spanish dollars. The way in which the Greek sailors scrambled for the sugared almonds was really quite laughable, making a strange contrast to the ruin they were perpetrating at the moment on these inoffensive individuals; but, when they discovered the money, amounting in all, with what was taken from the friars’ persons, to no less than 14,000 dollars, they set up a shout, which so effectually frightened the poor friars, that they fell down on their knees, and invoked all the saints in the calendar to their aid. But the cupidity of the Greeks was excited rather than satisfied by the sight of so much gold and silver, and they immediately proceeded to strip their victims, an office which they performed with greater agility than could have been exhibited by the most expert valet. This humiliating operation disclosed fresh booty; the capacious sleeves, drawers, and hoods, all afforded something. One had a repeater-watch, and all had money.

Unfortunately, there were a few casks of wine in the hold, which the Greeks tapped; and thus, becoming intoxicated in the midst of their pillage, a few of the most ferocious proposed beating the captain to make him confess if there was more money concealed. They accordingly gave him some very hard blows with a rope’s end; then they served the cabin-boy in the same manner (as being generally privy to the captain’s hiding-places), and then two sailors. Lastly came the mate’s turn. Him they bound with a cord, and beat severely; and, finding blows made them confess nothing, they dragged him to the gunwale, held his head over the side of the ship, and, one putting a knife across his throat, swore he would kill them instantly, if he did not disclose where the captain’s money was hid, as well as Turkish letters, which were conveyed in the brig. The poor man, with loud cries, appealed to me to save his life; and, whilst I addressed myself to the lieutenant, Mrs. ——, who was sitting on the quarter-deck with our little girl, an infant, in her arms, rushed forward, undismayed by the ferocious looks of the Greeks, and, with more than a woman’s courage, arrested the pirate’s arm, and implored him to spare his victim. Whether it was their intention to murder the mate it is impossible to say; but the man who held the knife let him go, and threw the key of the mate’s chest at Mrs. ——’s feet.

This scene being over, the lieutenant informed me that he was bound to examine my luggage, whispering to me, at the same time, that, as his men had become very riotous, it would be prudent to propitiate them by a present of a few dollars. I gladly took his advice, and presented them with twenty dollars, which they accepted thanklessly enough. My luggage was then overhauled; but they took nothing, although, amongst other things, they were grievously tempted by discovering a bag of dollars. In the confusion which ensued I lost only a few trifles. The lieutenant begged a pair of pantaloons, which I gave him, and other things, which I assured him I could not spare, and which he very obligingly allowed me to retain. Considering that we were wholly in his power, I had reason to be grateful for his forbearance.

But let me, as an act of justice, bear witness to the wrongs which this nation, in the regeneration of its liberties, had to endure, and none of which were greater than those inflicted by the Austrian and Sardinian navies, whose flag our vessel bore. Whenever the merchant-ships of these two powers appeared in the Levant, it was, under the cloak of trade, to transport materials of war to their mortal enemies the Turks; and whenever the injured Greeks, availing themselves of the rights of nations, molested these pretended neutrals in their unjust traffic, the Austrian ships of war made cruel reprisals on them. In the German war, about the middle of the last century, when the Dutch, calling themselves neutrals, became carriers for the enemies of England, we were accused of committing piratical enormities on the Dutch, equal to any that the Greeks are charged with, and we sought our justification in the same rights: so that we may ask if the laws of blockade are to be held good only when exercised by the hands of the strong? In excuse for beating the master and mate, it may be alleged, that the Genoese crews, when they had the mastery, were not backward in using the same violence. As for the money which was transferred on this occasion, all that need be said is, that, setting aside the question of piracy, it passed from the hands of those who had made a vow of poverty into the pockets of an oppressed people, whose families had been driven from their homes, and perhaps were starving, until some son or husband could bring them the fruits of their dangerous enterprises.

Piracy on the high seas, in the open day, has something very awful and formidable in it. You seem to be utterly defenceless in the midst of the wide ocean, with the arbitrators of your destiny standing there to hurl you, if you utter a murmur, into the fathomless deep. They demand your money, your goods, or whatever else may chance to excite their cupidity, and you give up everything with as smiling a face as you can. You offer them refreshments, as if they were welcome guests, who have honoured and delighted you by their presence; and, until they burst out into the frantic delirium of drunkenness or butchery, the whole scene wears the appearance of the visit of an obliging consignee, who has come to take possession of his property.

At seven at night the schooner’s crew left us to pursue our voyage. The beds and blankets that lay scattered on the cabin-floor were replaced in the berths, a little order was restored, and a wretched supper was made on hard biscuit and cold water; for everything good to eat, from the chickens down to the lemons, walnuts, figs, raisins, &c., had either been taken away or devoured. It was calm through the night; and, when the morning of Sunday broke, the schooner was still in view. Our fears were revived, when we saw the enemy’s boat manned, and soon afterwards coming towards us. But it was only a complimentary visit from the lieutenant, who, with smiles and an amiability that only a Greek can put on towards those whom he has plundered, expressed his hopes that we had passed the night comfortably, and begged of the master to have the goodness to look for a box of jewels that was marked on the ship’s bill of lading, but which had been overlooked the day before; for the lieutenant spoke and read Italian perfectly, and was supposed to be a native of the Ionian isles: so that, having examined the manifest during the night, he was enabled to discover what valuables there were on board which had escaped personal scrutiny. The master reluctantly gave up the casket; and the lieutenant, having requested him to prick down on the chart the longitude and latitude, to see if they corresponded with his own reckoning, politely took his leave, squeezing my hand on parting, just as if we had been old acquaintances bidding each other adieu. A breeze sprang up; the schooner put her head towards Candia, and we soon lost sight of her.

A council was then called as to what was to be done. The friars, who had lost their all, were for putting back: but I objected to that course, seeing we were now two-thirds of our way to our destination. The friars, however, having, as I afterwards learned, agreed, in writing, to give the captain 250 Spanish dollars if he would return, carried their point; and all that remained to be done was to bear the disappointment with patience.

In returning to Leghorn, it was necessary to put into the first port we could reach for provisions; and, accordingly, on the 19th of September, we cast anchor at Zante. Here I made known our misfortune to the government secretary, Colonel Maclean, who very obligingly came down to the health-office to see me, our vessel being in quarantine: and I had reason, from what he told me, to be well satisfied with having escaped as we did; for I learned from him that it was quite a miracle that any respect had been paid to the English name, since many piracies, accompanied with violence and outrage, had been lately committed on English vessels. At Zante I saw in the quarantine ground hundreds of wretched Greeks, in rags and misery, driven from their country, and not knowing where to find a place to lay their heads.

On the 27th of September we weighed anchor, and, when off Sicily, nearly lost our masts in a gale of wind. The next day we were alarmed by the kitchen’s catching fire, and by a passenger falling ill of fever; after which, we ran on the island of Elba in a fog, and finally arrived at Leghorn on the 12th of October, 1827.

The passenger I have named was an Italian, one Signor Girolamo ——, a young man, who, after very successful studies at Padua, thought to turn his talents to account in Mahomet Ali’s service; but, on his arrival in Egypt, he was nearly starved. He was a clever mathematician, and of great literary attainments; but he forgot that, to teach, one must be enabled to explain, which, from his ignorance of Arabic, was impossible, and that Mahomet Ali wanted officers, mechanics, and engineers—practical men—but not schoolmen. Having in vain essayed to find an employment, he was at last told he might take service, if he would pronounce himself competent for the situation of hospital-mate and apothecary to an infantry regiment. In this his medical employment, according to what he told me, he saw so much peculation going forward, that, being ordered to Navarino, with his regiment, in disgust, he made his escape to Zante, determined to have done with Pashas and Eastern civilization for ever. Anxiety, fatigue, and blasted prospects, threw him into a malignant fever; and his deplorable situation, in the empty hold of a vessel, without bed or blanket to sleep on, could not but excite our sympathy.

There was one of the friars, named Fra’ Buonaventura, who, after the plunder of the vessel, when we were on our passage back, was guilty of a breach of confidence so base, that I hardly know how to designate it. He was the one to whom the bag of letters from Europe for the monks of the different monasteries in the Holy Land had been entrusted. These letters, being of no use to the Greeks, were left; and Fra’ Buonaventura used to lie on his back in his berth, and, breaking the seals, read them one by one, and then destroy them. His conduct appeared to me so culpable, that I wrote to the Neapolitan ambassador (he belonging to a monastery at Naples), and requested his Excellency to make this violation of trust known to his superiors.

We remained in quarantine until the 17th of November, during which time the news of the battle of Navarino reached Leghorn. From the Lazaretto I took my family to Pisa and Rome; and, the bad weather being now set in, I resolved to await the return of spring, and the arrival of fresh letters from Lady Hester Stanhope, before venturing again on so dangerous a voyage. Besides, the shock had been very great, and Mrs. ——’s health was seriously impaired by continued sea-sickness and the horrors of the scenes she had witnessed, which for many months often recurred in her dreams, so as to bring on a nervous affection, which did not entirely leave her for two years.

What Lady Hester Stanhope’s situation was at this particular date may be gathered from a letter which she wrote to the late Mr. John Webb, her banker, at Leghorn, and of which I annex a copy.

Lady Hester Stanhope to Mr. John Webb.

Djoun, Mount Lebanon, May 30, 1827.

Sir,

A Firmanlee,[15] having taken refuge in the mountain, under the protection of the Emir Beshýr, contrived to pick a quarrel with my water-carrier, who was quietly going about his business, and, having bribed some of the Emir’s Jack Ketches, they beat him most unmercifully. The Emir Beshýr and his chief people have likewise been bribed by this man, who has plenty of money at his disposal. They have all, therefore, taken the Firmanlee’s part, and acted in the most atrocious way towards me. A short time since, the Emir thought proper to publish in the villages that all my servants were instantly to return to their homes, upon pain of losing their property and lives. I gave them all their option. Most of them have remained firm, being aware that this order is the most unjust, as well as the most ridiculous, that ever was issued. Since that, he has threatened to seize and murder them here, which he shall not do without taking away my life too. Besides this, he has given orders in all the villages that men, women, and children, shall be cut in a thousand pieces, who render me the smallest service. My servants, of course, as you must imagine, cannot go out, and the peasants of the village cannot approach the house. Therefore, I am in no very pleasant situation, being deprived of the necessary supplies of food, and, what is worse, of water; for all the water here is brought upon mules’ backs up a great steep.

I should not be a thorough-bred Pitt, if fear were known to me, or if I could bow to a monster who could chain together the neck and feet of a venerable, white-bearded, respectable man, who has burnt out eyes, cut out tongues, chopped off the breasts of women by shutting down heavy box-lids upon them, put them upon red-hot irons, hung them up by their hair, mutilated men alive, and, if a father has escaped from his clutches, has loaded his infant son with his chains! For the space of three years, I have refused to have the smallest communication with the Emir. He sent me one of his grand envoys the other day—one of those who are charged with the budget of lies sent to Mahomet Ali. I refused to see him, or to read the letter of which he was the bearer.

My kind friend and former physician, Dr. ——, having heard that for some years my situation has not been a pleasant one, and that my health is very indifferent, has given a proof of attachment and disinterestedness very rare in these times. He has blasted his own prospects in life by giving up every thing in Europe to join me in this country, without consulting any one. He wrote to me from France that, if he did not hear from me by the 25th of April, he should proceed to Leghorn, and there embark for this country. The state of my sight has prevented me from keeping up a correspondence with him as formerly; but, if letters I wrote to him in the beginning of the year have been forwarded to him from England, perhaps he may have changed his determination. But, in the case of his being at Leghorn, you would confer a great obligation upon me, if you would advance him £100 for his expenses, and deliver him the enclosed letter.

I must particularly request that neither you nor any of your people will communicate anything respecting my affairs to Mr. ——, for he publishes everything in the most disadvantageous way to every blackguard in the town of Beyrout.

I hope you will have received the wine I sent you safe. It is needless to tell you I cannot at this moment execute your commission, but I hope to do it to your satisfaction at some future period.

Ten thousand thanks for your kind recipe for my eyes. I have not had a moment’s time to bestow a thought upon myself since I received it.

Dear Lord Frederick![16] what changes have taken place in my situation since I saw him last! but I am too much of a Turk to complain of the decrees of Heaven.

I forgot to mention that there is a plague at Sayda. Most of the people are shut up; and, although I must have suffered cruelly from the malady formerly, I am in no apprehension concerning it, as I am a perfect predestinarian. Happy for me that I have inspired the same feelings into all those who surround me.

If it please God that I, like Joseph, should come safe out of the well, I hope it will be needless to assure you that, whatever part of your family might fall in my way, my greatest pleasure would be to endeavour to make them, by every service and attention, the evidence of the respect and regard which I bear you.

H. L. Stanhope.

PS. Long before you can receive this letter, this business must be settled. Depend upon it, I shall be a match for them. I shall trouble you to give Dr. —— the information contained in this letter, begging him to guard complete silence on everything that relates to this country or elsewhere; for things are in an unpleasant state both here and at Cyprus.

Some time in the spring, but the exact day is not noted, I received the following letter from Lady Hester Stanhope:—

Djoun, Nov. 9, 1827.

I have not heard from or written to you for eight months. My three letters, composing one, must have reached you. I have not made my intended journey, for I have been, during three months of this summer, absolutely as if in prison. The representatives of the John Bulls in this country having impressed the Emir Beshýr with the assurance that I had not a friend in the world, he proceeded upon unheard-of outrages towards me; and, if he did not actually put my life in danger, he had it publicly cried,[17] that whoever served me should be bastinadoed and amerced.

This unheard-of stretch of insolence was set to rights by our old acquaintance[18] at Constantinople, who acted very well towards me. The Emir Beshýr, with all the art and meanness well known to him, has now become abjectly humble. One of his people told me that it was not his doings, but the work of ——, who had put it into his head; and, finding he had made a false calculation, and displeased great and small in the country by his vile conduct, he is humble enough, and repents having given me an opportunity of showing what I am. I am thus become more popular than ever, having shown an example of firmness and courage no one could calculate upon:—it was poor little David and the giant. But the God who defended David defended me from all the assassins by whom I was surrounded. Even water from the spring the beast would not let me have. The expense to get provisions brought in the night by people was enormous. Some risked their lives to serve me, and bring me food. One person only came openly, and that was a woman, saying she would die sooner than obey such atrocious orders, and called down curses on the Emir, the consuls, and all of them. This conduct was well worthy a follower of Ali.

The plague this year has carried off thousands of inhabitants at Damascus and Aleppo; it is now in the Mountain. There are all sorts of fevers, too, besides plague, and my medicine is nearly all gone; for all the world come to me for what they want. I have written to Mr. Allen, to beg he will give me a year’s credit for a little common medicine, and he sends you this letter. If there is war, how am I to get it? but I will run the chance.

A young seyd, a friend of mine, when riding one day in a solitary part of the mountain, heard the echo of a strange noise in the rocks. He listened, and, hearing it again, got off his horse to see what it was. To his surprise, in a hollow in the rock, he saw an old eagle, quite blind and unfledged by age. Perched by the eagle, he saw a carrion-crow feeding him. If the Almighty thus provides for the blind eagle, he will not forsake me: and the carrion-crow may look down with contempt on your countrymen.

I say this, because I have seen two doctors—they were English—and they tell me that, though my eyes are good, my nerves are destroyed, and that causes my blindness. Writing these few lines will be some days’ illness to me: but I make an effort, in order to assure you of the grief I have felt at being, I fear, the cause of your affairs being worse than if you had not known me. All I can say is, if God helps me, I shall not forget you. You can do nothing for me now; trust in God and think of the eagle. Remember! all is written: we can change nothing of our fate by lamenting and grumbling. Therefore, it is better to be like a true Turk, and do our duty to the last, and then beg of the believers in one God a bit of daily bread, and, if it comes not, die of want, which perhaps is as good a death as any other, and less painful. But never act contrary to the dictates of conscience, of honour, of nature, or of humanity.

What I shall do, or not do, is the business of no one; so on that head I shall say nothing. God is the disposer of all events. Do not write to me. First, I shall not get your letters; and, besides, I do not wish to hear a thousand lies: for you dare not write otherwise, I know, unless left to yourself. Leave everything to a great and all-powerful Being, who will empower me to act under all circumstances. I have had, as things are, reason to bless His mercy every day. No one else could get out of such difficulties of every kind unprotected by an Almighty’s hand. I have written these few lines with the hope of comforting you a little, and to let you see I have a soul, though my body is wasted to nothing, with anxiety, want of food, rest, &c. Don’t expect any more letters. If you wish to do me harm, you will talk of me and my affairs to fools, and strangers, and curious people: but it is now come to such a pass, that it little signifies what any one does or says. God bless you!

[Not signed.]

If Dr. Madden should call on Dr. Scott,[19] to talk Arabic and philosophy, it is I who sent him. Strange opinions are not for ignorant, vulgar people. Perhaps you may see Dr. Madden. Of private affairs, I only said to him that I was in debt.

Lady Hester Stanhope to Mr. Webb, banker, at Leghorn.

[Supposed date] October, 1827.

I thank you a thousand times, my dear sir, for the anxiety you express on my account; and, although surrounded by a hundred difficulties, I am cheerful, and, as I said before, the Turks behave very well to me. That old monster, the Emir Beshýr, is pretty quiet at this moment, at least as far as regards me: but he is reducing to beggary and to misery all who surround him. A real Turk is a manly, though rather violent, kind-hearted being, and, if he has confidence in you, very easy to deal with. I have often wondered at their gentlemanlike patience with low, blustering, vulgar men, who give themselves more airs than an ambassador, because chance has placed them as consul or agent in some dirty town not equal to a village in France; men who, in fact, in Europe, would scarcely have their bow returned in the street by a man of condition. It is the general conduct of these sort of people that has given the Orientals such a false idea of Europeans. The race of Christians here is of the vilest people in the world: not all totally without talent, but all born without principle, or one single good quality. Out of the great number of children, both boys and girls, which I have taken before they have changed their teeth, not one has turned out passable, and most of them have become vagabonds. If a poor man falls ill, and gives his wife a little trouble to wait upon him, she soon ends the business with a little poison; and, if a woman marries again, the husband casts off all her children by the former marriage, and she, without remorse, leaves them to die in a hovel, or abandons them under a tree to beg for subsistence. It was only last night that one of these wretched beings came to me, skin and bone, having been for thirty days ill of a fever. The very girls I have brought up with the greatest care have, when married, beaten their children of two years old so violently as to stun them; and one, from the blow she gave her child upon the back, caused the bowels to protrude more than a span. A man thinks nothing of taking up a stone as large as his head, and throwing it at his wife when she is with child. These are the beastly people that create the compassion of Europeans—a horrid race, that deserves to be exterminated from the face of the earth. What a contrast between these wretches and the wild Arabs, who will traverse burning sands barefooted, to receive the last breath of some kind relation or friend, who teach their children at the earliest period resignation and fortitude, and who always keep alive a spirit of emulation amongst them! They are the boldest people in the world, yet are endued with a tenderness quite poetic, and their kindness extends to all the brute creation by which they are surrounded. For myself, I have the greatest affection and confidence in these people: besides, I admire their diamond eyes, their fine teeth, and the grace and agility (without capers), which is peculiar to them alone. When one sees these people, one’s thoughts naturally revert to the time of Abraham, when man had not his head filled with all the false systems of the present day.

I must now thank you for a most admirable cheese, and the case of liqueurs which accompanied it. You tell me not to send any more wine; but I shall not attend to it. I only regret that I cannot forward more by this conveyance; for it is excessively scarce, which will account for the small quantity; but I shall always continue to ship some, whenever I can procure it; and I only wish this country produced anything that would be agreeable to you or Mrs. Webb.

I have heard that at Geneva there are very fine flowers. If you will procure me a few seeds, I should be very much obliged to you, as my stock of flowers this year has become very low, owing to my having had a very careless gardener, who neglected to water the seeds, so that they never came up. My fine steed is gone long ago, and my garden remains my only amusement. I have made a little note; but, if there should be any other showy flowers or shrubs, pray include them. Very small flowers are considered here as weeds, however pretty they may be.

I have received my account from your house, and I have drawn for another thousand dollars. They tell me, besides, that the doctor is gone to England. If so, I fear some trick will be played me, and he will not be allowed to return. It does not signify—I am an Arab.[20] I have, however, written to him, desiring him, in case of his return, to beg you to attend most particularly to the state of your health and that of Mrs. Webb, and that he will leave with you a volume of medical advice. The other letter you will please to forward to his friend, Mr. N. S.

It was immediately after the date of this letter that the news of the battle of Navarino must have reached Sayda and Beyrout. On that occasion, all the Franks at Sayda, in a single hour, fled precipitately from their homes, the greater part of them taking refuge with Lady Hester Stanhope. In the narrative of her subsequent conversations, some account of the expense she was put to by this unforeseen event will be found; for, in her correspondence with me, she was particularly careful not to make any allusion to the universal alarm which prevailed amongst the Europeans, lest it might possibly have some influence upon the fears of my family, and deter us from prosecuting our journey.

Some private business requiring my presence in England, I left Italy in June, 1828, for London, and returned to Pisa in the following October. Up to this time (now nearly a year), I had had no answer from Lady Hester to my letters (one from Zante, and one from Leghorn), in which I had given an account of the piracy. At that time there were no steamboats on those waters, and correspondence was necessarily carried on, at great risk and uncertainty, by merchant-vessels, many of which were plundered by the Greeks, while others frequently consumed two or three months, returning from the Levant to Marseilles or Leghorn. At last, a letter reached me, in the handwriting of Miss Williams, dictated by Lady Hester Stanhope.

Lady Hester Stanhope to Dr. ——.

Djoun, Mount Lebanon, March 23, 1828.

I have received the account of your disasters by sea, and latterly the books you were so good as to send me. The books I cannot read, and I have nobody to read them to me: however, I thank you for your kind attention. I am much afflicted at the trouble and vexation you have had, and at the situation in which you find yourself. I must say, it would be very imprudent to bring women or children into this country at this moment, and a great source of fatigue and vexation to me; for they could not be comfortable under the present circumstances of the times. What I should propose is, that, when you have settled your business, you immediately set off alone with a Dutch passport,[21] in case things should turn out ill before you arrive. Leave Mrs. —— at Pisa, where she could remain very comfortably until you return. Write to X. these few words—“She has ordered me to forbid you evermore to interfere with her affairs, or even to write to her.”

The plague will be over before you get here. The Turks behave extremely well to me, the Christians and Franks as ill. I shall say nothing about the state of my affairs—(you may guess what it may be in these times) nor of the state of my health, without a person of any kind to assist me in anything. If I outlive the storm, I may help you:—if not, you can take poor Williams away.

Let Mr. Webb know how much I prize his kind attentions. I hope some wine will go with this ship for him:—if not, it is not my fault. Salute Mrs. —— and say I hope no childish feeling will prevent her allowing you to be absent a little while. I feel for her—but I cannot write. She may rely upon me: only obey me strictly. Had you done so before, things might have been otherwise for all: but simpletons will be wise men, and that is what has turned the world upside down, as well as caused much unhappiness to individuals. I promise to keep you only a few months, but I want to see you: only come in as silent and quiet a way as you can.

I will not receive any letter from X., so do not take charge of any: all must be lies. Return them, should he send any, and say not a word that you mean to come here.

[Not signed.]

On the 15th of November of the same year I received another letter, which was also in Miss Williams’s handwriting.

Lady Hester Stanhope to Dr. ——.

Djoun, August 25, 1828.

I have heard from Mr. Webb’s house that you are gone to England. My heart misgives me: I fear some trick, and that they will prevent your coming. At all events, do not let your head be crammed with ideas that you cannot land; for, notwithstanding the departure of consuls and Franks from this part of the world, I firmly believe that, any one coming to me either in a man-of-war or in an open boat, his landing would not be opposed, even if things were more decidedly bad than they are at present. Sulyman Effendi, whom you recollect at Sayda, is governor of Beyrout, and Ali Aga has succeeded him at Sayda; Laurella, as Austrian consul, still remains at Beyrout, though but little friendly to me, as does old Gerardin at Sayda; being considered as an Arab. Never write to me but through Mr. Webb’s house, whether you come or do not come. I want no reasons and no long stories. I hope your head will not be turned, because I am sure you will repent it hereafter, if it is.

Arabize yourself before you get here, if you are ever such a quiz. I have common Turkish clothes ready for you, that you may not cut up and gobble good cloth in a hurry.[22] You must not think of bringing any Frank servant with you. I have a room ready for you, and I hope you will be very comfortable. The difficulty about Mrs. —— was want of room; and a house in the village in these sort of times is not exactly the thing, though I had a pretty little house, two stories high, picked out for you, had you come sooner. Cut short impertinent questions here, by saying everybody was out of town, that you saw none of my family or friends, and only stopped a few days in London to transact your own private business.

[Signed] H. L. S.

Ah! why did you not come directly, and bring Lucy? what a comfort to me!

In compliance with Lady Hester Stanhope’s wishes, I resolved to await the coming of spring, in order to conduct my family to England, and, leaving them there, to set off alone for Syria. But new difficulties had arisen, and Lady Hester’s situation had become more painful by a severe loss which she unexpectedly sustained in the death of her long-tried and affectionate companion, Miss Williams. It was some time in December that Mr. Webb, of Leghorn, communicated to me a letter from Lady Hester Stanhope, giving him the melancholy news of this sad event. The letter was in French, dictated to some secretary whom she had found to carry on her correspondence, and it is here translated for the convenience of the general reader.

Lady Hester Stanhope to Mr. John Webb, merchant,
at Leghorn.

Djoun, 24th of October, 1828.

Sir,

When I received your letter of the 17th of July, I was very ill, confined to my room, and occasionally delirious: nevertheless, in a moment of reason, I desired Mr. Gerardin to acquaint you with the great loss I had sustained in the faithful Miss Williams.

After two years of plague, there broke out, over almost all Mount Lebanon, a kind of fever, which I do not know precisely how to name. Whether it was a sort of yellow or malignant fever, poor Miss Williams fell a victim to it, as well as a servant, named Môosa, the only one in whom I had any confidence; and I but just escaped death from it myself. I am, as it were, come to life again by a miracle, owing to the attentions of a rich peasant, who came from a considerable distance to assist me. He found me entirely abandoned, delirious, and at the point of death; and left in that state by whom?—by wicked maids, who had cost Miss W. and me such pains in endeavouring to make something of them. You may easily imagine that I did not keep such ungrateful sluts an instant after I came to myself. Even in the weak state in which I was, I felt in a rage at the deplorable accounts which were given me of the detestable indifference which they showed when Miss W. was dying, occupying themselves in pilfering what they could lay their hands on: but I have already told you what the Christians of this country are. At the present moment, I have nobody to assist me but some old women of the village, the most stupid and ignorant creatures in the world. My greatest resource is a girl of eight years old, whom I have brought up, who appears attached to me, and who is less stupid than the others.[23] However, one cannot get well very fast, attended by such people, to whom it is impossible to trust a key. I am moved from my bed to the sofa, and from the sofa to the bed, and I am not yet able to walk unsupported; but, if I was better waited on, and had more quiet and proper things to eat, I know very well what an effort my iron constitution would make, which has brought me through this illness without doctor or doctor’s-stuff. I have a good appetite; but my weakness of stomach does not enable me to digest the coarse and badly-cooked food which they give me to eat, seeing that my stomach has been very much disordered for want of nourishment during fifteen days, having subsisted all that time on barley-water and plain water.

My ignorance of what passed around me was not, properly speaking, the delirium of fever; it was a stupor, caused by the neglect with which I was treated. The peasant says that, when he entered my bed-room,[24] he found me stiff and cold, in the state of one dying of hunger: he gave me food immediately. After some days I came to myself, and am now gaining strength. But, in the midst of all this, I am not melancholy. What has happened has happened, and whatever is is best. To-day I was telling Mr. Beaudin[25] some anecdotes of the celebrated Duke of Dorset, which were of no very mournful turn. Mr. Beaudin’s coming has been of the greatest service to me in every way. He has raised for me, with a great deal of difficulty, some money, for which I have given him my bill of exchange for 1000 dollars, dated October the 15th. I have given him another bill for 500 dollars, dated the 24th of October. I endeavour to scrape together as much as I can, because the aspect of the times is dark. I must lay in provisions of all kinds; for in a short time it will not be so easy to do it, as some imagine, and prices will rise to something incredible.

It seems to me that, if Dr. —— had decided on coming, he would have been here before now. Well! I have got over this illness without his assistance, or that of any other doctor, and one feels much more elevated when God has been one’s physician. It is the Supreme Being alone who has saved me in all my difficulties for these last twenty years, and who has given me strength to support what others would have sunk under.

With the bills, drawn through Mr. Bell and Mr. Beaudin, there are life-certificates. You know my weakness of sight, and that, consequently, I cannot write the bills myself; but, thank God! I can still, though with great pain, read a letter, although I cannot extend the effort to books and newspapers. This is the reason why I have had the bills of exchange, to the order of Mr. Beaudin, written by old General Loustaunau, and those, to Mr. Bell, written by Mr. Beaudin; nor must you wonder, if, another time, Mr. Beaudin should himself write bills to his own order.

The mercantile house of ——, at ——, has asked me for a letter of introduction to you, because they say you are a man of high respectability: but I should be very sorry to render a service to such rogues.

[Signed] H. L. S.

The distressed situation in which Lady Hester Stanhope found herself by such a severe calamity as the loss of Miss Williams, who, in sickness and in health, had been all in all to her, induced me to set aside every other consideration, and to resolve on making the voyage to Syria without loss of time, even in the depth of winter, although the navigation of the Mediterranean is exceedingly boisterous in the months of January, February, and March. I accordingly went over to Leghorn, and entered into an agreement with the master of a merchant-vessel, who was to sail in a few days for Beyrout. Nothing remained but to sign it; but, previously to so doing, I had to overcome the repugnance which Mrs. —— felt to being left behind, if she remained, and the apprehension of fresh piracies, if she accompanied me. Between the two she hesitated and wavered until the opportunity was lost, and, being unable to make up her mind one way or the other, spring came, and then summer, until it was finally settled that I should take her back to England, and, leaving her there, return and perform the voyage alone.

We accordingly set off for Marseilles in August, 1829, and traversed France as far as Paris. But there her womanish fears, and the dread of losing me in a foreign country by plague, and a thousand ills, which persons, who have not visited the East, fancy to be more common in distant countries than at home, still preyed on her mind, and a fresh resolution was formed to accompany me. We therefore returned to Marseilles: but not until November, 1830, could I prevail upon her to set her foot in a vessel.

On the 3rd of November, we set sail from Marseilles, in the Belle Sophie, Coulonne master, a brig of 220 tons or thereabouts. We had secured the state-room, and one berth out of four which the cabin contained. Two others were occupied by two English ladies, and the fourth by the captain. Temporary berths were fitted up for three Englishmen adjoining the companion-ladder, who, in society with these pious ladies, had embarked on the wide world in the holy mission of making proselytes among Jews and Mahometans.[26] On the floor and lockers of the cabin was an Arab woman with three daughters and a son, whilst her husband, with a Cypriot Greek, were tenants of the hold. Thus we were twelve cabin-passengers, where six only could have been comfortably accommodated: but no scruples of this kind would appear to have ever crossed the conscience of the master of the vessel or the owners.

FOOTNOTES:

[14] The death of the Hon. James Stanhope.

[15] Firmanlee is synonymous with outlaw.

[16] Probably Lord Frederick Bentinck, brother of Lord William.

[17] The criers in villages on Mount Lebanon stand on the roofs of houses at sunset, and, with a loud voice, give out the orders and proclamations of their Sheykhs and Emirs.

[18] Sir Robert Liston, ambassador to the Porte.

[19] Dr. John Scott, of Bedford Square, a distinguished Oriental scholar.

[20] There is a proverb, shortly and beautifully expressed in Oriental language, the sense of which is this:—“There are two things, which God laughs at in heaven—men’s determination to elevate a mortal—men’s determination to crush one—either of which He alone can do.”

[21] Lady Hester Stanhope advised a Dutch passport in consequence of the insecurity to which, after the battle of Navarino, the English, French, and Russians were for a time exposed, from the vengeance of the Turks.

[22] There is a curious work, called The Doctor, written, as I have understood, by Dr. Southey; and, in the 123rd chapter, he seems to allude to Lady Hester’s care in providing a suit of clothes against my arrival. He is speaking of misplaced economy—

“Which, of a weak and niggardly projection,

Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat with scanting

A little cloth:”

And then he adds: “Lady H. Stanhope had an English physician with her in Syria, who, if he be living, can bear testimony that her ladyship did not commit this fault, when she superintended the cutting-out of his scarlet galligaskins.”

[23] This is the girl Fatôom, who afterwards, in conjunction with others, robbed her ladyship of money and effects to a considerable amount.

[24] See [Additional Notes], at the end of the volume.

[25] Formerly secretary to Lady Hester Stanhope, now French vice-consul at Damascus. He is the individual so highly eulogized in M. Lamartine’s Souvenirs de l’Orient.

[26] The names of these ladies and gentlemen were Mr. Cronin, a surgeon; Mrs. and Miss Cronin, his mother and sister; Mr. Parnell, son of Sir Henry Parnell, and afterwards Lord Congleton; Mr. Newman, a gentleman of great classical acquirements; and Mr. Hamilton.

CHAPTER III.

Lady Stanhope’s reception of Dr. —— —Her residence described—Supposed reasons for her seclusion—Her extraordinary influence over her dependants—Her violent temper—Dress and appearance—Her influence in the country—Abdallah Pasha guided by her—Her hostility towards the Emir Beshýr—Her defiance of his power—Her opinion of him—Flight of the Emir—His return—Death of the Sheykh Beshýr.

We reached Beyrout, after a prosperous voyage, on the 8th of December, having anchored eight days at Cyprus to disembark some merchandize, the Arab family, and the English party. In pursuance of Lady Hester Stanhope’s injunctions, I dressed myself in an old faded suit of Turkish clothes, and thus presented myself at the English and French consuls’ residences. My appearance certainly was not calculated to make her ladyship’s creditors suppose I came loaded with money to pay her debts; and I felt, as I passed through the streets, that my old Bedouin manteau or abah, and indeed my whole dress, in which I had twice traversed the desert to Palmyra, was of a hue and age to dissipate the hopes of the most sanguine.

I lost no time in sending off a messenger to announce my arrival to Lady Hester Stanhope; and received a note from her on the 11th, in which, after congratulating us on our safety, she expressed the pleasure it would give her to see me; she added that, as for my family, they must not expect any other attentions from her than such as would make them comfortable in their cottage; that they were not to take this ill on her part, as she had long before apprized me that she did not think English ladies could make themselves happy in Syria, and that therefore I, who had brought them, must take the consequences. This reception was not very agreeable to my feelings, but it was highly characteristic of Lady Hester.

With the bearer of the letter her ladyship sent camels for our luggage, donkeys for my family, and a horse for me. At Nebby Yôoness, where we slept the first night, we found another of her servants, who had been sent thither to prepare our dinner and beds; and, on the following day, two miles from her house, we met Mr. Jasper Chasseaud, her secretary, who had come thus far to welcome us. Placing my family under this gentleman’s guidance, I hurried forward alone, and reached Lady Hester Stanhope’s residence about noon. A cottage had been provided for us in the village of Jôon, with two black slaves for servants, and, so far as the accommodation was concerned, we had no reason to be discontented. Mr. Chasseaud accompanied my family to their new home, but it was twelve at night before I was able to join them.

I found Lady Hester in good health and excellent spirits, and looking much the same as when I left her some years before. She received me with great apparent pleasure, kissing me on each cheek, ordering sherbet, the pipe, coffee, and a finjàn[27] of orange-flower water; all which civilities, at meeting, are regarded in the East as marks of the most cordial and distinguished regard. I myself was truly astonished at all this, but more especially at her salutation on the cheeks after the Oriental fashion; for, in the early part of her travels, when I was with her for seven years together, I do not recollect that she had often even taken my arm—an honour she seldom vouchsafed to any body less than a member of the aristocracy. My astonishment was increased, when, for several days in succession, she insisted on my always sitting by her on the sofa—a privilege she rarely, indeed, I believe never, allowed to any one afterwards.

The conversation turned at first on such inquiries as are common, after a long separation, to persons who have known each other before. I remained with her from noon until midnight, in vain endeavouring to get away, during which time I hardly moved from the sofa, except to sit down to dinner. A description of the dinner appointments of this lady, who once presided at Mr. Pitt’s table in the splendour of wealth and fashion, may be considered both curious and interesting. She sat on the sofa, and I opposite to her, on a common rush-bottom chair, with an unpainted deal table (about three feet by two and a half between us), covered with a scanty tablecloth, of the kind usually spread on a bed-room table at an inn. Two white plates, one over the other, French fashion, were placed before each of us, and in the centre of the table were three dishes of yellow earthenware (common in the south of France), containing a pilàf, a yackney, or sort of Irish stew, and a boiled fowl, swimming in its broth. There were two silver table-spoons for each of us, which, she said, were all she had, and two black bone-handled knives and forks. One spoon was for the broth, one for the yackney; and, when the pilàf was to be served, we helped ourselves with the same spoons with which we had been eating. The arrangements were completed by a black bottle with Mount Lebanon wine in it, of exquisite flavour, it is true, and a common water-decanter. She said that in this style the young Duke of Richelieu had dined with her; adding, however, that her destitute state as to dishes and table-service was not quite so deplorable previously to the long illness she had gone through; but that, at that melancholy period, her slaves and servants had robbed her of everything, even to the cushions and covers of her sofa.

At length, after frequently pleading the anxiety my family must feel at being left so many hours in a strange habitation, I contrived to make my escape, and found Mrs. ——, on my return, sitting disconsolate in the midst of her trunks, under a conviction that I must either have been lost, or devoured by the wolves and hyænas, with whose neighbouring depredations, for want of other subjects of conversation, the secretary had endeavoured to entertain her. There was no great difficulty in appeasing her fears on such occasions, of which we had afterwards so many repetitions; but it was not quite so easy to reconcile her to the undisguised slights which Lady Hester Stanhope put upon her from the very moment of our arrival, in retaliation, as we supposed, for the repeated delays, of which Lady Hester believed her to have been the cause, in the prosecution of my journey. Her ladyship’s resentment was probably rendered still more severe by her general want of sympathy towards her own sex.

The reader will pardon these extraneous details. They are introduced for the sake of preserving entire the thread of the narrative, and certainly with no acrimonious feeling towards Lady Hester Stanhope, whose motive, as she afterwards told me, for adopting this strange line of conduct towards my family, was to check in the bud the womanish caprices, which she anticipated might otherwise disturb the harmony of our intercourse.

Before we commence our diary, it is necessary to give a description of the residence which Lady Hester Stanhope had chosen, in order to avoid the confusion which an ignorance of localities is sometimes calculated to produce.

Her first retreat, when she settled in Syria in 1813, was an old monastic house, about two miles from the ancient city of Sidon: but this she found much too small for her establishment; and having observed, in one of her rides whilst living there, a small house near the village of Jôon,[28] or Djoun, as the French spell it to accommodate the sound to their pronunciation, she resolved to hire it, and remove thither. It belonged to one Joseph Seweyah, a Damascus merchant, who very readily let it to her for 1,000 piasters, or £20 a-year, as the exchange was then, on condition that, on quitting it, the buildings and improvements she might make were to revert to him and his heirs, without any consideration on his part. The house was, and is, called Dar Jôon (see the view), dar signifying a Hall, or gentleman’s dwelling, as when we say Boxwood Hall, Wortley Hall. Dar also means a mount, or elevated hunch. In which of the two senses the word is applied in Dar Jôon I could not learn, as some Arabs told me one way, and some the other.

The mount on which the house stands is shaped like a half orange, with a flat on the summit, which afforded room for exercising ground, a garden, stabling, and any other additional buildings that might be thought necessary. The garden, entirely of her own creation, was richly diversified with covered alleys, serpentine walks, summer-houses, pavilions, arbours, and other embellishments, in which she displayed such admirable taste, that it would not be easy, even in England, to find a more beautiful garden within similar limits.[29]

Around the house Lady Hester built small rooms, stables, cottages, offices, and entire dwellings. The rooms and dwellings were intended for lodging those who, she expected, would fly to her for refuge, during the revolutions which she believed were then impending, not only over the country in which she resided, but the whole world; and, anticipating that many individuals, whose lives would be eagerly sought after by their persecutors, might ask for an asylum at her hands, she contrived several detached rooms, in such a way, that persons dwelling within the precincts of the same residence should be ignorant who their neighbours were; whose vicinity, in like manner, should be unknown to others. The whole was surrounded by a wall more than ten feet high to the north and east, and about six or seven feet high on the other two sides. The entire space within the wall was a parallelogram.

Ground Plan of Lady Hester Stanhope’s Residence at Joon.

Length of the Outside Wall 180 paces.
Breadth of d° ... 100 d°
The Dots mark the way from the Doctor’s Pavilions to the inner Courts.

REFERENCE:

• 1_Lady Hester Stanhope’s Bed Room.
• 2_Saloon, converted into a Store Room.
• 3_Divan, open to the air.
• 4_Entrance to the Garden.
• 5_Lady H. S.’s Drawing Room.
• 6_Store Room.
• 7_Major domo’s Room.
• 8_Men servants’ Hall.
• 9_Baroness Fériat’s Room.
• 10_Arbour, Covered with Jessamine.
• 11_Glass Room with Cistern under it.
• 12_Maid servants’ Room.
• 13_Miss Williams’s Room.
• 14_China Closet.
• 15_Pantry.
• 16_Kitchen for Lady H.S. only.
• 17_Bath.
• 18_Inner Court.
• 19, 19_Dairy.
• 20_Back yard for Lady H.S.’s maids.
• 21, 21, 21._Granaries.
• 22, 22._Loolo’s Stable.
• 23._Best Store Room.
• 24, 24._Offices & Kitchen for the Household.
• 25, 25._Strangers’ Rooms (second class.)
• 26, 26._Provision Rooms with immense Jars.
• 27, 27._Strangers’ Garden.
• 28, 28._Strangers’ Room (first class).
• 29._Cow Houses.
• 30. 30._Still Rooms.
• 31._Servants’ Gardens.
• 32, 32._Stables & Stable Yard for Horses.
• 33, 33._Mule Yard & Stables.
• 34._Terrace.
• 35._Carpenter’s Stores.
• 36._Wine Cellars.
• 37._Prison.
• 38._Warehouse.
• a, a, a, a._Different Court Yards.
• o, o._Secretary’s Rooms.
• p, q._Doctor’s Rooms.
• Ω_Doctor’s Pavilion—extra muros.
• z, z, z._Porters’ Lodges.

London. Published by H. Colburn, 13 Gᵗ. Marlboro St.

The buildings were, in some instances, composed of a number of walls, one within the other like the palace of the kings of the Medes (see the annexed ground-plan); and owing to the different enclosures wherein servants with different occupations lived, a person attempting to enter, or to escape, was certain of being seen, and almost equally certain of being stopped. Two gateways opened into the buildings, one for the men servants and visitors, and the other for the women, and those who were introduced secretly to her ladyship’s apartment. On entering by either of these two gates, a stranger would be seriously perplexed, and his first question would be, Where am I going? Is this a labyrinth, with a door here, and a dark passage there; a garden on one side, a screen on the other; here a courtyard, there another? what does it all mean? Some passages afforded an immediate communication with parts which, to one unacquainted with the building, and judging by the roundabout approach from one to another, would seem to be at least fifty or one hundred yards apart. In the garden were two pavilions, with trap-doors in the floor leading to steps which descended to a room under ground, from which opened doors through the wall upon the open country. More than one individual has been indebted for his safety, if not for his life, to these secret means of escape and shelter.

Her constant outlay in building arose not from the love of brick and mortar witnessed in many persons as they advance in years, but from the one predominant idea, that to her the distressed, the proscribed, the rich, the poor, would fly for protection, succour, and concealment. And however erroneous the fancy might have appeared at first (for events in some sort proved she was right), nobody who really knew her character could have suspected for a moment the generosity and pure disinterestedness of her motives. Her asses, mules, camels, and horses, were kept principally with the same view; and her servants were taught to look forward, with a sort of awe and religious expectation, to events and catastrophes, where their services and energies would be tasked to the utmost.

Besides the additions which Lady Hester Stanhope was constantly making to her own residence, she had hired four or five cottages in the village of Jôon, and had bought an old ruined house there. This, she said, she should repair, and convert into a sort of inn, where she might conveniently lodge a number of those persons who would be passing backward and forward on the important affairs in which she was soon to play so conspicuous a part. “And do not think,” she one day observed, “when the time comes, that I shall let your family, or that of my secretary, reside in the houses you now occupy: these I shall want; and I have in my eye, in a village about three leagues off, an asylum for all the women and children, and useless members of my establishment. There I shall send them; and you will have to give up all the spare room you can to the people who will take refuge with me.”

It often formed a source of strange reflection with me, what could have made Lady Hester Stanhope select such a locality, so remote and solitary, instead of living in a city, where the conveniences of life were readily accessible; and I at last came to the conclusion, in my own mind, that it proceeded from her love of absolute power, which could not be so thoroughly gratified in the midst of a numerous population as in a lonely and retired residence. She chose to dwell apart, and out of the immediate reach of that influence and restraint, which neighbourhood and society necessarily exert upon us. Arbitrary acts may lose at a distance some of their odiousness, or admit of being explained away. Servitude also becomes more helpless in proportion as it is removed from the means of escape or appeal. Mar Elias, at Abra, where she had previously resided six or eight years, was scarcely two miles distant from Sayda; so that her servants, when they were tired of her service, could abscond by night, and take refuge in the city; and her slaves, rendered low-spirited by the monotony of their existence, could at any time run away, and secrete themselves in the houses of the Turks. By removing to Jôon, she cut off their retreat; for a poor slave could rarely muster courage enough to venture by night across lonely mountains, when jackalls and wolves were abroad; or, if he did, by the time he reached Sayda, or Beyrout, or Dair-el-kamar, the only three towns within reach, his resolves had cooled, the consequences of the step he had taken presented themselves forcibly to his mind, or there was time to soothe him by promises and presents; all which palliatives Lady Hester Stanhope knew well how to employ. The love of power made her imperious; but, when her authority was once acknowledged, the tender of submission was sure to secure her kindness. Unobserved escape was well nigh impracticable by day, in consequence of the situation of the house on the summit of a conical hill, whence comers and goers might be seen on every side; yet, notwithstanding this, on one occasion all her free women decamped in a body, and on another her slaves attempted to scale the walls, and some actually effected their object and ran away.

In addition to these artificial barriers, she was known to have great influence with Abdallah Pasha, to whom she had rendered many services, pecuniary and personal; for to him, as well as to his harým, she was constantly sending presents; and he, as a Turk, fostered despotism rather than opposed it. The Emir Beshýr, or Prince of the Druzes, her nearest neighbour, she had so completely intimidated by the unparalleled boldness of her tongue and pen that he felt no inclination to commit himself by any act which might be likely to draw either of them on him again. In what direction, therefore, was a poor unprotected slave or peasant to fly? Over others, who were free to act as they liked, as her doctor, her secretary, or her dragoman, and towards whom she had more menagemens to preserve, there hung a spell of a different kind, by which this modern Circe entangled people almost inextricably in her nets. A series of benefits conferred on them, an indescribable art in becoming the depositary of their secrets, an unerring perception of their failings, brought home in moments of confidence to their bosoms, soon left them no alternative but that of securing her protection by unqualified submission to her will.

As a proof of this we may take the case of an English gentleman, of acknowledged abilities and of good professional education, who, about the years 1827 or 1828, after having remained attached to Lady Hester Stanhope as her medical attendant for a certain period, felt an insurmountable anxiety to quit her service. The village of Jôon furnished beasts of burden for hire, and Lady Hester Stanhope’s own mules went two or three times a week to Sayda for corn, provisions, &c. A horse was at the doctor’s call for his own riding, and the means of conveyance for so short a distance as two leagues were always therefore at hand. What, then, under such circumstances, could have induced him to set off on foot, without giving notice of his intention to anybody, if it were not that he was aware he could not get away in any other manner? When his absence was discovered, and it was known that he was gone to Sayda, a letter from Lady Hester Stanhope could not bring him back, neither could all the exhortations of her man of business, sent for that purpose, make him alter the determination he had taken not to return under her roof.

Yet, that the doctor’s emotions at the step he had twice hurriedly ventured upon produced a painful mental conflict cannot be doubted; for, in the room at Sayda where he was found, he sat with his head between his hands for some hours, weeping and sobbing, as one who considered that an injurious interpretation might be put on his flight, or as if Lady Hester’s conduct towards him had driven him to it, when he knew in his own heart, as his own letter to her proved, that she had been a benefactress to him at moments when it was not easy to find a friend.

As for consular interposition, under any circumstances, most of the consuls along the coast had found what a dangerous enemy she was: therefore, few of them, perhaps not one, would have risked a contention with her on any grounds. To have appealed to them, the legitimate protectors of Franks, would, therefore, have been fruitless.

At the time of my arrival, Lady Hester Stanhope’s establishment consisted of Mr. Chasseaud, her secretary (a nephew of Mr. Abbot’s, then the English consul at Beyrout), who, with his wife and two infant children, occupied, like ourselves, a cottage in the village—of Paolo Perini, a Roman, her maître d’hôtel, seven black slaves, (five women, a man and a boy) and a Metoûaly girl, named Fatôom, the daughter of a peasant woman in the village, who principally waited on her. There were besides a Mahometan groom, two stablemen, a porter, a cook, and a scullion, three or four men as muleteers and water-carriers, and two, whose chief employment was to carry messages, letters, &c., to distant places, and who had been in Lady Hester Stanhope’s service ten or fifteen years. In addition to all these, she gave employment to a score of workmen, who were constantly occupied in different constructions.

Independently of these, there were two persons who might be considered as her men of business in matters that particularly regarded the natives. One was what would be called a small farmer in England, and the other a tailor by trade: they both lived in the village, were sent for when they were wanted, received no regular salary, but were paid for their services from time to time in money, presents of corn, raiment, &c., as is the custom in the East. The tailor was a cringing knave, fit for a great person’s parasite. He had somehow found his way into Lady Hester’s establishment, from having married the daughter of a Syrian woman, named Mariam, or Mary, a creature of incomparable suavity of manners and considerable beauty, who had been housemaid during her ladyship’s stay at Latakia, some years before. This woman had two daughters, one of whom, on becoming the tailor’s wife at about twelve years of age, interested Lady Hester Stanhope so far as to make her extend her favours to the husband: he was named Yûsef el Tûrk. The other was a man of a different description: he was club-footed; and it was usually one of Lady Hester’s physiognomical remarks that all club-footed people had something of the Talleyrand in them—something clever in their composition: he was called Girius Gemmal. On this man’s character she would often dilate with much commendation; but she always finished by calling him a designing knave and a rogue. “He serves me well,” she would say. “At whatever hour of the night I ring my bell, he is always on his legs. If I want to be talked to sleep, he has a number of amusing stories to tell. He moves about so gently, that I hardly hear him, although he is lame and hobbles on one leg. There is sure to be hot water on the fire at any hour, and he makes the girls look about them somehow or other; but he is the greatest rascal that ever walked the face of the earth.”

As to her health, she was better perhaps than when I left her in 1820. Her pulse and her movements indicated considerable vigour of body. Although she had not stirred beyond the precincts of her residence, as far as I could learn, for nearly four years,[30] still she took the air and some exercise in her garden, and in attending to and overlooking the building and improvements that were constantly going on.

She was become more violent in her temper than formerly, and treated her servants with severity when they were negligent of their duty. Her maids and female slaves she punished summarily, if refractory; and, in conversation with her on the subject, she boasted that there was nobody could give such a slap in the face, when required, as she could.

Lady Hester Stanhope had adopted a particular mode of dress, to which she adhered without much variation, on all occasions, from the time she fixed her abode at Jôon. It was a becoming one, and, at the same time, concealed the thinness of her person, and the lines which now began slightly to mark her face. Lines, that mark the habitual contraction of the features into a frown, a smile, or a grin, she had none; and the workings of her mind were never visible in her lineaments, which wore the appearance of serene calm, when she chose to disguise her feelings. But age will, without furrowing the brow or the cheeks, bring on that soil of network which we see on the rind of some species of melons. This, however, was so very faintly traced, that it could not be detected without a little scrutiny: and, by means of a dim light in her saloon, together with a particular management of her turban, she contrived to conceal the inroads that years were now making on what her bitterest enemies could not deny was always a fine and noble face. It was this kind of pardonable deceit that made me exclaim, on meeting her again, after a long separation of several years, that I saw no alteration in her appearance.

Her turban, a coarse, woollen, cream-coloured Barbary shawl, was wound loosely round, over the red fez or tarbôosh, which covered her shaved head; a silk handkerchief, commonly worn by the Bedouin Arabs, known by the Arabic name of keffeyah, striped pale yellow and red, came between the fez and the turban, being tied under the chin, or let fall at its ends on each side of her face. A long sort of white merino cloak (meshlah, or abah in Arabic, ابه) covered her person from the neck to the ancles, looped in white silk brandenburgs over the chest; and, by its ample and majestic drapery and loose folds, gave to her figure the appearance of that fulness which it once really possessed. When her cloak happened accidentally to be thrown open in front, it disclosed beneath a crimson robe, (joobey) reaching also to her feet, and, if in winter, a pelisse under it, and under that a cream-coloured or flowered gown (kombàz), folding over in front, and girded with a shawl or scarf round the waist. Beneath the whole she wore scarlet pantaloons of cloth, with yellow low boots, called mest, having pump soles, or, in other words, a yellow leather stocking, which slipped into yellow slippers or papouches. This completed her costume; and, although it was in fact that of a Turkish gentleman, the most fastidious prude could not have found anything in it unbecoming a woman, excepting its association, as a matter of habit, with the male sex.

She never wore pearls, precious stones, trinkets, or ornaments, as some travellers have affirmed: indeed, she had none in her possession, and never had had any from the time of her shipwreck. Speaking of her own dress, she would say, “I think I look something like those sketches of Guercino’s, where you see scratches and touches of the pen round the heads and persons of his figures, so that you don’t know whether it is hair or a turban, a sleeve or an arm, a mantle or a veil, which he has given them.” And, when she was seated on the sofa, in a dim corner of the room, the similitude was very just.

It was latterly her pride to be in rags, but accompanied by an extraordinary degree of personal cleanliness. “Could the Sultan see me now,” she would say, “even in my tattered clothes, he would respect me just as much as ever. After all, what is dress? Look at my ragged doublet, it is not worth sixpence; do you suppose that affects my value? I warrant you, Mahmôod would not look at that if he saw me. When I think of the tawdry things for which people sigh, and the empty stuff which their ambition pursues, I heartily despise them all. There is nothing in their vain-glorious career worth the trouble of aspiring after. My ambition is to please God. I should be what I intrinsically am, on a dunghill. My name is greater than ever it was. In India, I am as well known as in London or Constantinople. Why, a Turk told one of my people who was at Constantinople that there is not a Turkish child twenty miles round that place who has not heard of me.”

There might, nevertheless, be perceived, under all this assumption and display of tattered raiments, a feeling of profound indignation at the neglect she had experienced from her former friends and acquaintances; and, for the purpose of affording evidence of the way in which she had been left, as she called it, to rot, she carefully preserved a bag of her old ragged clothes, which she would not suffer to be given away.

The frequent alarm she expresses in her letters of approaching blindness seems to have been nothing more than the defective vision incident to the decline of life. Spectacles in silver-gilt or tortoiseshell rims, which I sent her from time to time in parcels containing other small commissions, without hinting that they were intended for her, she affected to consider, when she got them, as only useful for presents to old people to whom she was charitable. I now found that she had taken to wear them, but of that kind worn by poor old women in England, without branches, such in fact as are stuck on the nose, and vulgarly called barnacles.[31] Her voice on such occasions became nasal from the compression of the nostrils, and at first she was very reluctant to betray her use of these glasses before me; but, after a short time, her objections wore away: yet she never could be persuaded to wear any other kind of spectacles, invariably giving away all gay and handsome ones that were sent to her.

The influence she had enjoyed in Syria, during the first years of her residence there, had been merely that sort of consideration which is accorded to a person of high descent and connections, who had made a great figure in England, and who had acquired a romantic celebrity by her travels: it was the homage paid to an illustrious name. But when, by degrees, her extraordinary talents came to be known, more especially her political abilities, and when it was observed that Pashas and great men really valued her opinion and feared her censure, she obtained a positive weight in the affairs of the country on her own account, independently of the prestige of birth and notoriety.

Speaking of this, she one day said, “What offers have not been made me! which, had I chosen not to be clean-handed, would have put pretty sums into my pocket.” Among the rest, she mentioned one man, who had offered her a vast sum, if she would lend her name and protection in some extensive mercantile speculation. The Sheykh Beshýr (the acknowledged chief of the Druze nation, and the powerful rival of the Emir Beshýr, the reigning prince) sent her, when he was proscribed and in flight, at three different times, carte blanche to settle with Abdallah Pasha or the Porte the amount of the sum which would save his life: “but,” she said, “knowing the Sheykh was not clean-handed, I could not undertake to buy him off; yet the whole of his treasures would have been at my disposal.”[32]

In relating this story, Lady Hester Stanhope added, “How odious has Abdallah Pasha rendered himself by his extortions and confiscations, because none of his people will speak the truth to him! When he wants money, his secretaries tell him he has only to sign an order for it, and then perhaps half a dozen families are driven into exile, or half ruined. But I speak plainly to him; and once, when I wrote to him how he was making himself hated by a particular act of oppression about money, he tore the buyurdee[33] in pieces, which gave force to that act, and drove his secretaries out of his presence for having flattered and deceived him. Why, doctor, when he receives a letter from me, if there are half a dozen others at the same time, he will let them lie on his sofa whilst he reads mine, and then will put that alone into his pocket, and take it into his harým to read over again.”

But Lady Hester’s nearest neighbour among Pashas and Princes, and the one who, consequently, was the most frequently mixed up in her affairs, was the Emir Beshýr, prince of the Druzes; and, as his name will necessarily occur very often in this diary, it is desirable to give a sketch of his career and character. At a remote period, his ancestors had migrated from the neighbourhood of Mecca to this part of Syria, and their origin was acknowledged to be noble. In the course of time, his family had attained to great consideration in Mount Lebanon, and stamped him, who sprung from it, as an Emir, or Prince.

The Emir Beshýr was now the reigning prince of the Druzes, himself a Mahometan born, but, as it is said, professing Christianity, whenever it answered his wicked ends to do so. In the annals of no country, according to Lady Hester Stanhope, can be found a man who has practised more barbarities, considering the small extent of his principality, than he has done. Not content with emasculating, he cut out the tongues and put out the eyes of five young princes, nephews and relatives of his own, whose contingent prospects to the succession gave him uneasiness. His atrocities transcend belief. All those who were obnoxious to him, high or low, were sure, in the course of his protracted despotism, to be removed, either by secret machinations or overt acts. On Mount Lebanon it was common to hear whispers that some one had been made away with, but nobody dared to give utterance to their suspicions of the agency.

This man was Lady Hester’s determined enemy. She was living within his principality—within his reach—and yet she braved him! and the greatest proofs of personal courage that she had occasion to show, perhaps, during her life, were manifested in her bold and open defiance of his power; which is the more extraordinary in a woman, apparently neglected by her country and friends, towards a prince, who has been certainly one of the most perfidious as well as bloodthirsty tyrants that ever governed a Turkish province.

Lady Hester, as I said, was domiciled within his territory, and many were the petty vexations with which he harassed her, in the hope of finally driving her away; for he considered her as a very dangerous neighbour, seeing that she openly cultivated the friendship of the Sheykh Beshýr, his rival, and made no disguise of her bad opinion of him, the Emir. Finding, however, that she was determined to remain at Jôon, some of his emissaries were employed to insinuate the peril to which she would inevitably expose her life if she persisted in her hostility to so powerful a prince. But Lady Hester Stanhope was not a woman to be frightened; and, when she found a fit opportunity, in the presence of some other persons, of getting one of the Emir’s people before her, so as to be sure that what she said must reach his ears and could not well be softened down, she desired the emissary to go and tell his master that “She knew very well there was not a more profound and bloody tyrant on the face of the earth; that she was aware no one was safe from his poisons and daggers—but that she held him in the most sovereign contempt, and set him at defiance. Tell him,” she added, “that he is a dog and a monster, and that, if he means to try his strength with me, I am ready.”

On another occasion, one of the Emir Beshýr’s people came on some message to her, but, before he entered her room, laid by his pistols and his sabre, which in Turkey these myrmidons always wear on their persons. Lady Hester’s maid whispered to her what the man was doing, when her ladyship, calling him in, bade him gird on his arms again. “Don’t think I am afraid of you or your master,” she said; “you may tell him I don’t care a fig for his poisons—I know not what fear is. It is for him, and those who serve him, to tremble. And tell the Emir Khalyl” (the Emir Beshýr’s son) “that if he enters my doors, I’ll stab him—my people shall not shoot him, but I will stab him—I, with my own hand.”

Lady Hester, after relating this to me, thus proceeded: “The beast, as I spoke to him, was so terrified, doctor, that he trembled like an aspen leaf, and I could have knocked him down with a feather. The man told the Emir Beshýr my answer; for there was a tailor at work in the next room, who saw and heard him, and spoke of it afterwards. The Emir puffed such a puff of smoke out of his pipe when my message was delivered—and then got up and walked out.

“Why, what did Hamâady[34] say to the Emir, when he was deliberating how he should get rid of me?—‘You had better have nothing to do with her. Fair or foul means, it is all alike to her. She has been so flattered in her lifetime, that no praise can turn her head. Money she thinks no more of than dirt; and as for fear, she does not know what it is. As for me, your Highness, I wash my hands of her.’

“Oh, doctor, if you were to feel the bump behind my ear, it is bigger than any thing you ever saw! And they say of the lions, that the more their ears are buried in bone the bolder they are. Why, at the time I am speaking of, there were five hundred horsemen about in the neighbouring villages, and they killed three men, one between the house and the village, one at the back of my premises, and one other farther off, just to let me know what they could do, thinking to terrify me; but I showed them I was not to be frightened. I always slept with a khanjàr” (a poniard) “by my side, and slept as sound as a top. Poor Williams was terrified out of her senses: she used to get up in the night and come to me. Why do I keep Seyd Ahmed but on account of his courage? because, in these dangerous times, you must have servants of all sorts. I remember when I and Miss Williams were left without a farthing of money, and the Emir had surrounded the house with the intention of murdering us, that Seyd Ahmed remained at his post, when all the rest were so frightened they did not know what they did; and we had nothing to eat too, but he never complained. Once, when we were at Abra, all the black slaves formed a plot to run away in the night to Sayda, which they executed. I had rung my bell several times, and, as nobody answered it, I went out to look, thinking they were all asleep, for it was two in the morning. Not a soul was to be found except the little black boy. I awoke Seyd Ahmed, called Miss Williams; and, although Seyd Ahmed was in a terrible fury, and wanted to set off in search of them in the middle of the night, I would not let him: for I thought it was a plot of the Emir’s to get the men out of the house, and then to have us murdered. But all these matters never disturbed my equanimity—I was as collected as I am now.”

Once some camels, that Lady Hester had sent with a load to a neighbouring seaport, were returning light, when some persons, who were employed by the Emir Beshýr, and who were accustomed to see the richest individuals of the province eager to embrace any opportunity of obliging him, thinking that she would be delighted that her camel-drivers should have rendered any assistance to their prince, stopped the camels, and loaded them with marble slabs, that were intended for the floor of a part of the Emir’s new palace, then building. These the drivers were ordered to deposit on Lady Hester’s premises, where they would be sent for. As soon as she heard that the slabs were lying near her porter’s lodge, she went out, and had them broken to pieces. “You may guess,” said she, when she told the story, “what a face the Prince made when this was related to him.”

There was a man, named Girius Baz, who was prime-minister to the Emir Beshýr; and, being an ambitious man, who sold his services to the injury of his master, he was strangled by him, and his goods and property, as far as they could be come at, were confiscated. The widow was left in poverty and destitution, as it was generally believed; and Lady Hester, having one day desired me to give two hundred piasters to her son, a lad, who had come begging in a genteel way, told me the following story:—

“That son,” said she, “was about eight or ten years old when his father was killed, and, since he has grown up, he maintains his mother by weaving. To succour this distressed family was a dangerous business with a man so cruel and jealous as the Emir; but I did it. One day, I asked one of the Emir’s officers why his master had so little compassion on Baz’s widow! ‘Because,’ answered the officer, ‘she goes about, saying she does not like the Emir.’—‘Like him!’ said I; ‘how can she like the man who murdered her husband? If she said she liked the Emir, it must be a lie, and therefore she only speaks the truth. Why did the Emir put it out of her power to like him?’—‘Because,’ replied the officer, ‘the minister became more powerful than his master, and then it was necessary to get rid of him.’—‘If he was too powerful,’ resumed I, ‘it was the Emir’s fault: he should have kept him under.’—‘But he could not,’ retorted the man.—‘Then, by your own confession,’ continued I, ‘he rode on the Emir’s shoulders; but that was no reason why he should have had him killed in a——.’—‘He was not killed in a——,’ interrupted the officer; ‘he was only seized there, and afterwards killed in his room.’—This was precisely what I wanted to get out,” added Lady Hester; “I made the man confess that the Emir had murdered Girius Baz, and it was of no consequence to me when, how, or where.

“Poor woman!” cried Lady Hester, after a pause, returning to the widow’s case, “I once had her for four months with me here, but she was so overwhelming in her gratitude and thanks, and kept so constantly about me, to attend upon me, that I was obliged to send her home again. Would you think it, that even in this case the sufferers proved themselves almost as bad as the tyrant! for this very woman carried on the farce of abject poverty for two years, and, at the end of that time, all of a sudden, appeared the diamonds, shawls, and money, she had hitherto concealed; in fact, she turned out almost as rich as I was myself. There is no believing a word you hear from any of them. Even Gondolfi[35] assured me that, in all his life, and in no other country, had he seen a people so full of lying, theft, and all kinds of vice as these are; and this, to crown all, is what he said of the Emir himself:—‘I have known him,’ said he, ‘twenty years, and never was there a more heartless, cruel man. I took an opportunity of talking to him in private, after he had put out his nephews’ eyes, and told him what an execrable thing it was. He beat his breast, and professed such repentance for what he had done, that I was quite moved, and thought to myself, perhaps the man acted from what he considered necessity, and that surely he would be more humane in future. But, soon after, I heard of the murder of Girius Baz, and of half a dozen more enormities, and I felt persuaded that his hypocrisy was as great as his cruelty.’

“You are shocked,” continued Lady Hester, “and say you are sick at your stomach from hearing of the atrocities of Ibrahim Pasha’s governors in getting recruits. Oh, they are nothing to what the Emir Beshýr has done in his time! Think of women’s breasts squeezed in a vice; of men’s heads screwed into a tourniquet until their temple-bones were driven in; of eyes put out with red-hot saucers; and a hundred other barbarities, worse than any you ever heard of! Wasn’t it extraordinary, that the same day that I sent the Emir’s man away with such a message to his master, one of the house-dogs pupped, and one of the puppies was blind?—not blind, as puppies usually are, but with his eyes burnt out, just as if they had been seared with a red-hot iron. I said to the man, ‘The demon of your Prince has entered the very dogs.’ The man almost fainted away before I had done with him, for I was not afraid of them; and even now, weak as I am, I do believe I could strangle the strongest of them.

“The Emir Beshýr has duped everybody. He duped the Pasha with the Sultan, and duped the Sultan with the Pasha. He cheats the English, cheats the French, and cheats all round. There is not a greater hypocrite on the face of the earth; and, although he sends his compliments to me by every traveller that passes, he is only waiting to see what turn matters will take, to fall on me, if he can; and, if he cannot, to lie and cringe, until a safer opportunity occurs of taking his revenge.

“You knew Aubin, the French navy surgeon, who had been a prisoner in the hulks at Portsmouth, and used to abuse the English so. Well, he was made the Emir’s doctor, because he procured him a ship to fly to Egypt in; the events on the mountain here succeeded each other so rapidly after your first leaving me! About 1820, Abdallah Pasha having hostile intentions against the Emir Beshýr and the Sheykh Beshýr, they both fled to the Horàn; and, after some time, when the Pasha pretended to be pacified, they both returned. Soon after that, the Emir, not being quite sure of what Abdallah Pasha meditated, thought it safest to fly a second time; and it was by the assistance of Monsieur Aubin that he embarked for Egypt, on board of a French merchant-vessel, commanded, I believe, by a Captain Allard. The Sheykh Beshýr, finding his former domineering rival fled, assumed the supreme authority in the mountain, and told the Emir Beshýr, by letter, that, if he ventured to return, he, the Sheykh, should be obliged to have him arrested, and sent prisoner to the Pasha.